


Jussi at Jussi’s (in the brightness of my night)

by caixa



Series: boy from the north country [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst, Baking, Carolina Hurricanes, Cheating, Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Drinking, Finland (Country), Flashbacks to season 2016-2017, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Jealousy, Lack of Communication, Lingerie, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Midsummer, Mutual Pining, Off-Season, Partying Finnish Hockey Boys, Sauna & Swimming, Skype Sex, Smut, Summer, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Unsafe Sex, and fixing it, mild biphobia, some crossdressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2018-12-07 17:07:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11628021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caixa/pseuds/caixa
Summary: "Teräväinen? Is he coming?" Jussi asks and Sebastian says he doesn't know, hasn't thought about it.It's a lie. He has tried hard not to think about it. Him. Them. All that mess he tries to deny ever even happened.“It’s gonna be a bunch of guys there,” Teuvo says and hopes he doesn’t sound as defensive as he feels. “In a big ass beach house. It’s a party, there’s a music festival. It looks like a nice place.”Sebastian Aho invites Teuvo Teräväinen to housesit Jussi Jokinen's Finnish seaside summer home and hopes to make sense of what happened between them during his sensational rookie season.¤Revised with additions and corrections May 29th, 2018





	1. Before

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Suomi available: [Jussi Jussilla (eli Kalajoen hiekat)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12142728) by [caixa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/caixa/pseuds/caixa)



> The first Jussi of the title means Midsummer (St. John's day), in finnish Juhannus, often shortened Jussi.  
> The additional title refers to Girl from the North Country by Bob Dylan, to the lines "In the darkness of my night / in the brightness of my day".
> 
> Midsummer is a big holiday in Finland, Scandinavia and generally around the Baltic sea. It's set near the summer solstice which clearly tells that it has its origins in pagan times and local religions. In Finland most people try to celebrate it like in this fic - retreating from towns to country, near lakes or seas.
> 
> This story tells what happened after the first part of the series, the Halloween party in hot tramp, daddy's little cutie. If you haven't read it, I recommend you do - this one can be read as a stand-alone, but the party will be referred to and the references make more sense if you know the original story.
> 
> The fic follows the canon timeline of 2016-2017 NHL season and summer 2017 quite religiously. The few little tweaks with dates, such as having the NHL awards on Thursday instead of Wednesday and making Sebastian stay at Teuvo's apartment longer than in real life are for the benefit of the story.
> 
> This is a revised version of the fic that I published originally from August to September 2017. The major changes are some added scenes to chapters 1 and 2 and moving a few paragraphs from chapter 1 to chapter 2.
> 
> If you know personally any of the persons named here, PLEASE GO AWAY AND NEVER LOOK BACK.
> 
> This is a work of fiction and all errors are mine.
> 
> Enjoy!

Traffic goes lighter right after the circle crossing south of Oulu, and as the houses on the roadside get more and more sparse, forests and fields dominating the scenery, there are times when there are no other cars to be seen. Sebastian hums to the tune playing on the radio, lips closed, and taps the steering wheel absentmindedly with his fingertips.

It’s nice to take this little road trip all by himself. It’s been cool to be spending the summer at his childhood home, fall back to his familiar Oulu boy self, let mom and dad take care of running the everyday household stuff, spend time with family, relatives and old school and hockey mates, but after a few weeks it has hit him with a bit of exhaustion. Over the season in Raleigh he’s got used to having his own space without really feeling lonely. It’s like his mind needs adjustment to the situation, like the body has to overcome jet lag slowly, over the course of days.

A forest of tall wind turbines breaks the skyline where it used to be just regular green kind of forest and Sebastian knows he's getting closer to his destination.

Jussi answers his phone almost immediately.

"Can you tell me your address again please? I forgot to put it in my GPS", Sebastian asks.

Jussi starts giving him the directions to his summer house but Sebastian cuts him off as politely as he can. He knows that Jussi's advice won't be of any help in the resort area with its numerous small winding roads.

"Just the address, Jussi! Please!" Sebastian begs and puts the navigator on while driving. 

Jussi Jokinen is like a cool uncle, Sebastian thinks, a part of the Northern Finnish hockey family he is very much born into. Sebastian has been hauled around to rinks and locker rooms for as long as he can remember – and maybe that’s a part of why he needs the space at this part of his life.

Because, in crowded rooms, or in the noise of blades slashing on the ice, pucks and bodies crashing to the boards, it’s too easy to push aside the silent voice asking  _who am I_.

Because, when you're born into a hockey family – both the literal flesh and blood and the extended family of – well, your whole social circle – you fall into a certain role. It gets routine to be the young, talented Aho, so comfortable that you forget to ask who is Sebastian. Is there a difference in there, even?

The navigator guides him through the not-too-busy center of Kalajoki, then there’s a couple of miles of fields and pine trees before the mildly synthetic voice advises him to turn right to the beach area.

After a couple of crossings and turns he knows he’s right, he needed the GPS.

 

Jussi’s summer home is a modern, angular house with almost wall-high windows towards the sea; it seems to be the style of architecture dominating the neighborhood. Jussi is already outside, sweeping pine needles and fine sand from the narrow wooden deck that leads from the driveway to the front porch. He puts the broom away, leans it neatly to the wall, as Sebastian approaches. Jussi pulls the young player into a loose hug, patting his back with both hands.

“Welcome, Sepe,” Jussi greets warmly, “It’s been long.”

“Thanks, great to see you,” Sebastian says as he pulls back from the greeting hug. “But I don’t know if it’s that long. Seems you’re forgetting the March game,” he teases.

Jussi had set up a leading goal for Florida Panthers with a sweet assist, only to watch another ex- _kärppä_  tie the game no more than two minutes later. With Skinner’s goals later in the game, the guests had eventually stolen the points back to Raleigh.

Jussi shakes his head. “ _We_  are forgetting it,” he corrects and slaps Sebastian on the shoulder to guide him inside the house.

 

“Are you sure you really don’t want to spend the Midsummer here?” Sebastian asks moments later on the large couch of the spacious open-plan living area. Everything around him is airy and neat: lots of white, touches of earthy tones of grey and beige. “That doesn’t sound logical.”

Jussi chuckles and smirks at him. “I’m too old for all that shit, drunks blasting their car stereos through the night, getting lost floundering in and out of the festival area. And my kids want someplace warm, have you seen the weather forecasts? It’s going to be ten degrees Celsius, tops. I’m just relieved to get out and leave the house inhabited, so no idiot will get an idea to break in here. Win-win,” he says.

Sebastian laughs. “And you trust 19-year-olds as housesitters? You’re a brave man,” he says.

“I trust  _you_ ,” Jussi answers pointedly. He stands up from the couch, heading for the tidy modern kitchen area. “Coffee?” he asks.

“Yeah, please. Thanks,” Sebastian says.

“So, who are you planning to bring here with you? Girlfriend? Or guys? Or both?” Jussi asks, moving about behind the kitchen island.

“Just guys,” Sebastian says, hoping Jussi won’t ask more, read anything about his shaky girlfriend situation from the two words. “Some mates from Oulu. Probably Pulju, but you know how he is, he’s going to have a dozen invitations from different people and he’ll decide between them in the last minute.”

"Teräväinen? Is he coming?" Jussi asks and Sebastian says he doesn't know, hasn't thought about it.

It's a lie. He has tried hard not to think about it. Him. Them. All that mess he tries to deny ever even happened.

He knows it’s not a mature way to deal with it, not dealing with it at all. The way he, throughout most of the year, avoided Teuvo’s looks that said  _we should talk about it_  is not the style he wants to see himself handling things. He is usually level-headed and open, not afraid to face any trouble head-on.

But there was the easy out because Teuvo never pushed it, never confronted Sebastian with words. Maybe Teuvo was just as confused; maybe he didn’t force Sebastian because he didn’t want to risk anything messing up the rookie’s game.

"You should invite Teukka. It's nice to have someone to share the NHL glory, you know, take some of the pressure off you.  Unless you want to hog all the attention, of course," Jussi says, loading the coffee maker. "But naturally it's up to you," he continues, "Perhaps you've had enough of his company over the season."

Sebastian doesn't think he has. The season ended early, too early for his liking, he was called up to the Worlds and Teuvo wasn't, and suddenly it was June and he was in Oulu, a long 600 kilometers from Helsinki, even longer 4400 miles from Raleigh. 

It's odd being so far apart; it's odd because they're both in Finland. It's supposed to be a small country where everyone knows everyone but the reality that hits him every day in the off-season is that the country stretches long from south to north and he and his closest teammate are worlds apart. He gets notifications of Teuvo's social media posts and checks them to look into a life he has no part in: tennis and golf with people he doesn't know and other ones he does, sailing to places he's never been to and couldn't place on the map: Barösund, Pellinge.

For what it’s worth, Teuvo might like the change of scenery. At least asking if he’d like to come would give a perfect excuse to contact him. The thought sets a quiet flare, not altogether unpleasant, in the pit of Sebastian’s stomach.

He won’t let Jussi get a hint of his musings.

"You just want him to owe you one, too," Sebastian says to the veteran player with a grin. 

He knows that the main reason Jussi is lending his house to him is the fact that Sebastian has agreed for the second year in row to be a part of Jussi’s annual charity event, an all-star hockey game for the benefit of the local junior team. Jussi doesn’t hesitate to pull any strings to get other NHL players involved: more stars attract more media and more fans, which means more money.

Jussi doesn't deny it, just shrugs and smiles. “You know me too well, kiddo," he says, dimples deepening on the round cheeks. "And you're right. It would be great to get you both there," he admits.

 

They chat about the Canes over the coffee.  Jussi shares some memories from his own Carolina years, like he did a year ago when Sebastian was drafted. It’s different now, even when some of the stories are the same: they resonate in a new way now that he knows the organization, the game and the people Jokinen is talking about.

There’s racket at the door, and Jussi’s two kids rumble in, their mother in their wake. Sebastian stands up from the table to let Salla hug him for a greeting. “Great season, dude! We’re always so proud of you”, she says squeezing him.

“Thanks” Sebastian mutters through a shy smile. “And thanks for letting me and the guys use the house. I promise we’ll behave,” he says.

Salla laughs softly. “I’m sure you will”, she says and goes back to tell the kids to hang their jackets that are tossed on the floor.

“Ah,” she sighs, pouring coffee in a mug for herself. “They’re so full of energy. It’s your turn to take them out to run up that ridge or something,” she says to Jussi.

Jussi gathers his daughter and son and asks them to come and show Sebastian where they keep their bikes so Sebastian can use them over the weekend. They don’t take the bikes now; Jussi leads Sebastian and the kids through the back yard to a narrow path that winds between stunted pines, lumpy roots crisscrossing everywhere for a natural obstacle course. The path vanishes when it meets a sandy cove, a steep ridge rising on the other side of the small plain.

“Show Sepe how daddy runs there!” Jussi says to the kids as they cross the plain of sand. The boy and the girl trample up the slippery slope, round little grains of sand giving in under their tiny feet. They reach the top with a lot of huff and puff and half slide, half roll their way back down, giggling and dizzy as they get up again.

“It’s a great place for uphill running drills,” Jussi says with a grin. “Wears you out fast.”

The 5-year old comes down to them and drags Sebastian’s hand, grinning. “You too!” she demands.

Sebastian follows the girl uphill, slides downhill, balancing to keep on his feet in the sand rolling down in small streams under his sneakers. On the foot of the ridge the children try to knock him down to the ground, giggling and tackling him from both sides, barely reaching hip level. It’s to no avail and they proceed to grab his hands, try to tear him down hanging from them.

Finally Sepe favors them and collapses on the cold sand. He knows he’s going to regret it later, grains of sand stuck in his hair and sneaking under his clothes will itch during the ride home, but right now he doesn’t care. The giggling and screaming kids tickling his ribs, the blue sky opening over his eyes as he lies down on the dune, fresh breeze bringing in faint scents of sea salt and pine forests, make it worth it.

It’s like being a child again, not a care in the world.

Jussi claps his hands and tells his boy and girl to start heading home. Sebastian gets up, half embarrassed but reassured by Jussi’s amused smile, dusts the sand off his clothes, runs his fingers through his hair, shaking the strands.

“C’mon, let’s go. Mom will have snacks for you”, Jussi says to his kids, and both obey admirably.

Back at the house Jussi walks Sebastian through the remote control of his TV to show how to switch between internet streaming and regular broadcast channels. "You can watch the draft if you want to but I hope you guys find some better use for your youth" he says. "Text me the names of everybody who’s coming here, I'll get you all VIP passes for the festival. They'll be waiting for you here."

"Thanks, really. But that's too much, I can surely get us tickets", Sebastian says humbly.

Jussi waves his hand at him. "Nonsense. They have shorter beer lines on that section.  You can still go see the bands up front in the crowd it you want to. The people will only be thrilled to have you and your guys there." 

Why would Sebastian disagree with his hockey uncle about that?

 

~¤~

 

Teuvo notices Sebastian’s snap when he’s getting out of the gym. He ignores the extra heartbeat that pounds as high as in his throat when he opens it.

He hates his body failing him like this, he doesn’t want to react so strongly. The summer has given him merciful distance to the emotional mess he was at the end of the season but this isn’t promising.

Sebastian dangles a house key between his face and the selfie camera, puts the key down and smiles. The brown eyes look straight at him from the screen as Sebastian turns slowly around, apparently to pan the scenery on the background. There appears to be a stretch of an empty beach and greyish blue sea meeting equally greyish blue sky, a bit blurred because the image is focused on the face.

“Jussi at Jussi’s, how does it sound?” the electronically packed, thin version of the familiar voice asks. Teuvo can’t help smiling at how the  _L_  doubles when Sebastian says ‘sounds’,  _kuullostaa_. The boy never ditches his dialect. “Call me when you can.”

 

 _Can_ doesn’t always equal _should_. Teuvo can, and Sebastian picks up quickly.

“What was that about?” Teuvo asks straight up.

“Nothing, I just thought…” Sebastian rambles off, he sounds like he’s suddenly embarrassed of sending the message. “Do you have Midsummer plans?”

“Nothing special,” Teuvo says and it’s the truth, his parents have asked him to come with them to his aunt’s summer cottage but he can visit her any time later in the summer. “How come?”

“Ever been to Kalajoki? We’re getting Jussi Jokinen’s summer house for the weekend, me and some guys. Would you like to come? Jussi is getting us all tickets for the festival. It would be cool to see you.”

The last sentence comes out almost shy, and Teuvo pictures how Sebastian looks after saying it, he might be biting the corner of his bottom lip with his canine tooth.

Teuvo realizes he’s stretching the silence and breaks the electric hum by clearing his throat before Sebastian asks again. “Sure,” Teuvo says. “I mean, I’ll check with my parents because they asked me to visit some relatives but…” he shrugs with one shoulder, like Sebastian could see it over the phone “I mean I have nothing here and Kalajoki…” the silence stretches again and he’s getting worried it’s awkward, how was he going to end his sentence? “… Sounds cool.”

That’s as close to a yes as it gets, and Teuvo likes how he can hear the smile leaking in Sebastian’s voice as they go on to chat about nothing and everything. He’ll have details to go through, like when and how he’s going to get all the way up there, and if he’s an idiot agreeing to spend a weekend with some guys, some  _kids_  from Oulu he doesn’t even know, but.

It’s Sebastian.

That should be even a stronger _but_. He let the boy make a mess of his Christmas, and the most of his spring, and here he is, throwing himself out there for another holiday.

But.

It’s Sebastian.

He can’t put a finger on it, maybe it’s as blatant as missing his presence, maybe it’s the hollow gnawing of things left unsaid, unsettled, unfinished, the hope of a chance of finally killing it off once and for all. The moment may come during the weekend, if he has the guts to seize it. If he doesn’t let time slip away like it easily can when a bunch of guys gather together for no other reason but to party without anything resembling a specific game plan.

 

~¤~

 

“Are you sure it’s a good idea?”

Teuvo didn’t mean to tell Olli about his Midsummer plans because he knows exactly what his friend would say. Unfortunately Olli called and he picked up.

“It’s gonna be a bunch of guys there,” Teuvo says and hopes he doesn’t sound as defensive as he feels. “In a big ass beach house. It’s a party, there’s a music festival. It looks like a nice place.”

“I’m not talking about the place, Teukka.”

Teuvo doesn’t answer.

Olli sighs. “Just be careful, okay? ‘Cause frankly, you –“

Teuvo cuts him off. He doesn’t want to hear more; they’ve had this conversation before.

“Okay, stop! It’s. Going. To. Be. Fine.” he says, stressing every word. “Don’t worry about me, please. I thought you have some silverware to watch over with you there?”

It’s an easy bait to get Olli to change subject.

“Your old friend?” Olli asks, accompanied by a soft, genuinely pleased chuckle. “No, I’m getting the Cup to Finland later in the summer.”

 

~¤~

 

Teuvo knows what he cut Olli off from saying. _“Frankly, you—“_

“You deserve better,” Olli said, shaking his head. The restaurants had been returned to their usual décor a week after Valentine’s day, and the two players were finishing their after-game dinner after the Pens had defeated the Canes in Raleigh. Olli hadn’t believed for a moment that it was only the loss that had made Teuvo distracted and moody, and before Teuvo realized it he had been pouring his heart out to his friend.

“Don’t say that,” Teuvo muttered. “He’s still a great guy. He’s a great player and a great teammate.”

Olli rolled his eyes. “That’s a bunch of greats there. I hope you believe what you’re saying.”

Teuvo started to regret he had told Olli anything.

“It’s not his fault I –“ he said and Olli interrupted.

“Keep falling for his cuteness? Because I get it, he’s one pretty boy, but Christ –“ Olli stopped talking when the waiter arrived with their check, even though it was unlikely anybody understood them in this town when they spoke Finnish.

Olli continued out on the street as Teuvo walked with him back to the Pens’ team hotel.

“I know you don’t want to hear this, but he sounds exactly that type of guy. You know. He wants his perfect little life with his perfect little high school sweetheart girlfriend but _explore_ a little on the side.” Olli made scorning air quotes with his long fingers around the word _explore_ , rolling it off of his tongue full of disdain.

They stopped by the hotel, Olli touched Teuvo’s arm and looked him in the eye. “Take care, okay? Straight guys – “ he sighed “— you can let them play with your dick but not with your heart.”

“I’m fine,” Teuvo said. “Don’t talk about this to anyone, okay?”

Olli gave his forearm a warm squeeze. “I would never. I just… I don’t want to see you being used. Any kind of relationship with someone who makes you feel like shit is not worth it. Trust me, I know.”

“Don’t worry,” Teuvo said. “Thanks for the company.”

“Thanks for the dinner! I’ll see that you get to pay the next one, too.”

“Ha. You wish,” Teuvo said. They had a loser pays -policy to their gameday dinners, some of the few occasions they could arrange to meet during the season.

 

The trouble was, Teuvo thought on his way back, being with Sebastian never made him feel like shit. If the feeling only hit _afterwards_ , when the moment was gone, was there really so much to worry about?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Jussi Jokinen All Stars event does exist, the game is going to take place on August 12th and Sebastian Aho will play there.
> 
> Everything else is fictional, such as the location and appearance of Jussi Jokinen's house. I haven't the faintest idea of the boys' whereabouts during Midsummer, they might have been in the US, really, I don't know. And I doubt if Teuvo's hobbies include sailing.
> 
> Please point out any mistakes.


	2. Wicked game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 23, 2016. Boston Bruins - Carolina Hurricanes 2-3.  
> Sebastian’s mouth tasted of booze and lipstick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The piece of music playing on Sebastian’s phone radio is Wicked Game by HIM, a Finnish metal version of the Chris Isaak classic.  
> 

It was hard to find a bar that would play something else than Christmas related music the night before Christmas eve, but in the end, it didn’t really matter what amount of jingle bells there were ringing in the background; the cheers and chatter overpowered it.

Could there be a merrier way to head for the holiday break than a win over the Bruins at home, before the eyes of fans, stands a red wave of awe and gratitude?

Teuvo was the hero of the day after his game-winning overtime goal. He accepted fist bumps and slaps on shoulders, smiling and laughing.

He felt Sebastian’s thigh pressing tight against his at the table and glanced at his side. It could be nothing: after all, there was a bunch of celebrating hockey players squeezed in a restaurant booth a little too snuggly for the number that wanted to raise their glasses to the goalscorer.

Sebastian grinned at him, eyes glistening in the twinkling lights of the garlands surrounding the table. “You were so good,” he said in Finnish, radiating pure, selfless pride and happiness. The sudden use of their own language in the middle of the crowded bar raised an aura of intimacy to the moment, like an invisible bubble had formed around the two of them, blurring and muffling the babble in the background.

 

They hadn’t really been out like this for weeks. The Halloween party had freaked Sebastian out a bit, made him keep his head down. Sepe concentrated strictly on work, partly horrified that he would be sent down to the Checkers to grow the hell up.

He chased his first goal that seemed to escape him the further the harder he tried. It was as if he thought that a goal was the only thing that would redeem him, validate him as a player instead of an idiot party boy who lost all control as soon as he got out of the watchful eye of his parents.

Sebastian never really voiced those worries, though, so it was hard to convince him that nobody thought of him that way. The effect had been almost the contrary: the temporary glimpse of the fun-loving, racy side of the shy little Finn only worked for Sebastian’s favor. Those who had been present at the team’s Halloween party seemed to appreciate the confidence Sebastian had carried his costume with, the fearless way he had assumed his role.

Eddie Läck was the only one who kept trying to flirt with Sebastian after the night, but that shouldn’t have been a surprise to anyone – since when would Eddie pass an opportunity to flirt, anyway? The goalie kept talking to Sebastian in Swedish like it was some kind of an intimate joke between the two of them, clearly embracing the blush on the rookie’s cheeks every time Sebastian had to struggle to find the words to answer him – which was, to Eddie’s imminent satisfaction, judging by the predatory grin he greeted it with, almost always.

Sebastian did, because with his skills it was inevitable, eventually score, roughly two weeks after Halloween. His parents were there to witness it and he celebrated the achievement over a dinner with them instead of going out for drinks – that would be sneaked to Sebastian by the teammates who had enough age to get them – with the guys.

Did Sebastian feel the wave of collective relief wash over everyone after the anxious rookie finally the goal he had so hungrily sought after? How Cam Ward dedicated more time in his post-match interview on praising Sebastian as a humble kid who deserved the reward for his work than analyzing his own saves?

That was how Sebastian was, he elicited it out of people around him: care, pride, appreciation.

Teuvo wondered if Sebastian noticed it; he thought that at least part of Sebastian did, and that he appreciated it, but was either too proud or too modest to acknowledge it. He would rather respond with his actions, work hard enough to be worthy of the praise.

 

“Wanna go home?” Sebastian asked. Teuvo had shoved over a half of his own drinks under Sebastian’s nose and the boy had downed them without asking, but he didn’t appear that drunk. His eyes had a gleam in them but it wasn’t a blurry gleam; there was spark and intent.

Teuvo didn’t dare to tear his eyes off that gaze like the look would fade away if he did; he nodded a slow and pointed  _yes_.

There was no fuss about them leaving together; it would have been weirder to go their separate ways. Sebastian had got the keys to his own apartment the day before but hadn’t even started to pack yet. His family and girlfriend were coming over for Christmas, partly to help him move, but even after that they wouldn’t be far apart: Sebastian was to be Teuvo’s downstairs neighbor.

Not alone, though. Sebastian’s mom, dad and brother would travel back to Finland after New Year, but his girlfriend would stay.

An end of an era would begin tomorrow, but on the Uber drive home, Sebastian’s shin rubbing too rhythmically against Teuvo’s for it to be an accident, the knuckles of his hand brushing sweeping lines to the side of his knee, it felt distant, too distant to be real. What was real was the blood buzzing loud up between his ears, his fingers twitching on their own accord to inch closer to those resting on the seat by his knee, like waiting to be touched.

 

Teuvo’s little sister wanted to talk to Teuvo about his goal and Christmas before she had to go to school, and his dad wanted a word too. Teuvo tried not to appear hurried on Skype with the people who cared about him so much that they had woken up at three in the morning Finland time to watch his game but he couldn’t help keeping his other ear towards the door to listen to any muffled sounds from the other side.

He didn’t know if he feared or hoped that the interruption would kill the mood that had made him leave the bar with Sebastian, the charged energy that had sizzled like static electricity during the unusually silent drive to their apartment.

It sure didn’t look like it had, considering what he saw when he finally could finish the call; Teuvo had to stop by the door to truly take in the sight.

Sebastian was fiddling on his phone by the kitchen counter, his back to the room, a flask-size bottle of Jägermeister close at hand. He had changed, and what he was wearing made Teuvo's heart beat faster.

Intentional would have been an understatement. This could better be described as dressed to kill.

Sebastian stood on high heels, red outsoles of the black patent leather stilettos from the Halloween night shining bright across the room. His legs were wrapped in another memento from two months back, the extra pair of black fishnet stockings that had been left unused that night. The wide lace rim hugged Sebastian's thighs, peeking below the hem of a white Team Finland hockey jersey.

The large blue number 20 on the back of the jersey deceived Teuvo at first. He naturally thought Sebastian was wearing his own shirt but when Teuvo looked closer he realized that the name above the number was longer.

Teravainen, stood in block letters across Sebastian's shoulders.

It was his World Juniors jersey from three years back; his gold medal jersey, his captain's jersey.

He hadn't even noticed it was missing.

Sebastian's phone started making a noise on the countertop. Teuvo realized Sebastian had put the radio on, the jingle revealed it as the morning show of an Oulu based rock music station. The music style wasn’t Sebatian’s favorite, but Teuvo suspected he listened to it to soak up the familiar atmosphere in the announcements of local businesses and sports news.

”Homesick?” Teuvo asked from his spot by the bedroom door and started slowly approaching Sebastian.

Sebastian glanced at him over his shoulder. The twist of his torso made the jersey drape around him, the fabric hugging the curve of his hip. His eyes were covered with dark glasses and his pretty lips were a deeper shade of red than usual. Teuvo realized his mate had painted his lips with the blood red lipstick he had got from their neighbor for the Halloween party.

”C'mere, captain,” Sebastian said instead of an answer, turned around and hopped to sit up on the rounded edge of the counter. He crossed his legs and swung the stilettos nonchalantly in the air.

”I'm not your captain,” Teuvo said, stepping closer.

Sebastian looked down on the C on his chest. Teuvo could see his eyes above the frame of the sunglasses. ”This says otherwise,” he said with a challenging smile, lifting the black lenses back at Teuvo's eyes.

”Okay,” Teuvo nodded slowly. He landed his hand on Sebastian's upper knee and guided it down on the counter, moving the other with his other hand to make himself room between Sebastian’s legs. ”Weirdo,” he whispered affectionately.

Sebastian extended his hand to slowly pet Teuvo's hair. ”Don't say you don't like it,” he smiled shyly. His hand slid lightly down Teuvo's hair, lingered a moment on the side of his neck, thumb rubbing the dip below his ear. The other fingers followed the gentle thumb to caress Teuvo's jawline to the tip of his chin; there they stopped, lifting the chin up as Sebastian leaned in to press a soft, gentle kiss on his friend's lips. And another, and another; soft, warm lips finding an untouched spot, a different angle each time they pressed down, pulling away only to come back again.

The soft, feather light kisses were overwhelming and teasing at the same time; a tantalizing feast to senses but yet not enough. Teuvo wanted to push closer, force the moist mouth open with his own, feel the tight muscles of Sebastian’s back through the fabric of his jersey. He took the lead and felt Sebastian follow, comply to his intensifying touches and kisses, arching his back to create a curve that guided the roaming hands down to the lovely hard buttocks.

 

It wasn’t the first time they were doing this, not even the first since Halloween. But it had never been as intense and intentional, determined and planned out as now.

There had been one time when a bad day at practice had left Sebastian angry and frustrated, and his glaring and moody huffs had lasted all the way back home. Teuvo had felt the need to calm him down and hugged him from behind.

Sebastian’s reaction had been a surprise: he had relaxed in his embrace, leaned his head back to his shoulder, nuzzled his nose to his neck and slowly spun around in the circle of his arms, looked at him tentatively, kissed him and parted quickly with a demure smirk on his lips, an expression that was just as much uncertain as it was knowing.

Teuvo wanted to reach for him but Sebastian fled to his room, engaging in a long phone call to his dad.

There were a couple of road trips, Sebastian sliding under Teuvo’s duvet in the darkness of the night, before or after an away game, hasty and clingy and needy, like chasing away nightmares or bad thoughts. It had led to some sloppy making out and grinding on each other under the cover of the pitch black hotel room night, like something happening in a dream, in an altered reality.

Sebastian had never carried out his offer to clean up Teuvo’s apartment in the heels and thigh-highs, either. It had remained a hungover joke; Teuvo hadn’t even seen the garments until now.

 

Sebastian’s mouth tasted of booze and lipstick. His knees squeezed the sides of Teuvo’s hips, his shins brushed Teuvo’s outer thighs and his ankles hooked around his knees. Teuvo wished desperately that he had taken the time to change his game day suit to something more comfortable – a nice pair of soft sweat shorts would work much better under the circumstances than an ironed button-down shirt and dress pants, thank you very much.

The radio had started to play a metal version of a melancholy love song, probably at least as old as Sebastian. It hit Teuvo’s senses in a fucked up way; the mood of the music was creepily fitting.

_It’s strange what desire will make foolish people do._

Teuvo broke the kiss for breath and lifted the black sunglasses off Sebastian’s face. Sebastian leaned back to straightened arms, shaking his flowing hair backwards. Teuvo brushed it back from his forehead with one hand and placed the glasses on the countertop with another.

 _Clank_. He wasn’t looking and accidentally knocked down the flask. “Shit!” he exclaimed, quickly lifting the bottle upright, and tried to sweep the liquor with his hand from spilling down on the floor.

“Sorry,” he said, looking apologetically at Sebastian, holding his soiled hand upright over the counter, looking around the kitchen area for a paper towel.

Sebastian grabbed his wrist and brought the hand close to his face, studying it with his eyes, spreading the fingers delicately with both hands. “Never mind,” he said and licked the side and palm of Teuvo’s hand and the creases between his fingers wherever he saw drops of the brown liquid. “It’s okay,” he continued and sucked three fingers deep in his wet mouth.

Teuvo gasped. “Fuck, Seppo,” he let out a muffled sigh. “Don’t.” The last word came out toneless and weak, hollowed out of any meaning, any weight behind it. He felt Sebastian’s slippery tongue sweeping his fingers from root to tip, the edges of the fingernails pressing his palate. The deep red lipstick was smudged from kissing but there was enough to leave red stains on Teuvo’s knuckles.

_What a wicked thing to do to let me dream of you._

He was definitely getting hard, and Sebastian must have guessed or noticed. He inched closer to the edge of the counter, letting the bare inside of his spread thigh press and rub the front of Teuvo’s pants.

Teuvo didn’t hesitate grinding against the welcome touch; he was too far gone already to play it down. Whatever was coming his way, he’d take it.

Sebastian let the fingers slide out of his mouth, releasing each with a gentle suck for a farewell. The hand didn’t actually feel clean, it was a mix of sticky and slick and damp. Teuvo couldn’t think but one use the combination would suit perfectly and went for it. He slid the hand up Sebastian’s thigh, tracing the holes and threads of the stocking with his fingertips, over the floral pattern of the lace, up the meaty muscles under the hem of his jersey, to the sculpted, tight V cut of the hip.

He watched Sebastian’s face as he wrapped his fingers around the base of his cock, delighted to see his lips part for inhaling deeply, eyes glaze for a moment.

“So you wanna have fun?” Sebastian whispered. His voice was thick, trickling like sluggish stiff syrup from his throat, but he never lost his focus, not even when Teuvo moved his hand and got Sebastian to shiver noticeably.

“What did you have in mind?” Teuvo asked but Sebastian just smirked at him.

Sebastian slid down from the counter. He was taller than normal in his heels; Teuvo noticed he had to look up. His fingers started working on Teuvo’s shirt buttons deftly and neatly, his eyes never leaving Teuvo’s face, a hint of knowing mischievousness in the smile on his still-too-red lips.

He peeled the shirt off Teuvo’s shoulders, let it drop on the floor and proceeded to his pants: soon they were on the floor with the shirt.

Sebastien kneeled down between his blonde friend and the kitchen counter, slid his fingertips under the waistband of Teuvo’s briefs and looked up questioningly, like searching for a sign of consent on Teuvo’s face. He carefully drew the briefs down and helped Teuvo step out of the pants, one foot at the time.

Teuvo’s pale cock stood at attention before him and he curled one hand around the shaft, giving it a couple of tentative slow strokes, watching the reaction on Teuvo’s face.

He reached for the green flat bottle on the countertop and before Teuvo could stop him, poured some of its contents over the erect cock. The strong alcohol burned like…

“Fuck!” Teuvo screamed. Sebastian’s eyes blew up wide and round out of sheer horror.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry!” he muttered, face aghast, and instinctively sunk the abused cock as deep in his mouth as he could, as the fastest way to relieve the burn. It had been his initial intention anyway, but he had planned to get this far a little slower.

Teuvo’s anxious gasps had settled into something deeper and Sebastian dared to look at his face again. “Better?” he asked. Teuvo nodded, seemingly happier. “Better,” he said, but gave his answer a quick rethink. “No, I mean, go on.”

Sebastian grinned and went back to work.

He had no prior experience on giving a blowjob but tried to do like he’d like to have it done. No teeth, a lot of tongue, licking the lips wet enough for them to slide easily up and down the skin, hand mimicking the rhythm of the mouth on the base to give the whole length an even squeeze (he didn’t even dream to take it in too deep, because gagging, retching or vomiting would have been totally unsexy side-effects).

He hit a rhythm that Teuvo seemed to enjoy, and – it wasn’t bad for him, either. It was like – a really deep kiss, in a way, and hearing the sounds of pleasure let out above him gave him a feeling he was doing something right. He liked the warmth and the smell of the body real close, the faint shiver on the shin and ankle his kneeling leg touched.

He wanted to please, he wanted to make it good.

This wasn’t gonna happen again. He needed to make it count now.

He sensed Teuvo losing control to pleasure. Fine. He’d work him through it. He took him in a little deeper, stroked the underside of the cock with his thumb in soft determined brushes all the way from the balls to his lips. He licked with his tongue a little faster, a little tighter, increasing a little suction.

Teuvo didn’t want to come all over his jersey, that was for sure.

If it tasted horrible, he could hold it and spit it out.

It didn’t. He didn’t have to go anywhere; he could just bask in Teuvo’s awe and gratitude and affection when they laid, half-sitting, collapsed on the floor.

“That wasn’t too well thought out. Sorry,” Sebastian said.

Teuvo glowed at him with a lazy, sated grin. “It turned out okay,” he replied. “But never fucking ever play with that stuff on anyone again. I’m serious. Not a guy or a girl. Promise,” Teuvo said smiling and ran his fingers through the brown strands of hair.

“Promise,” Sebastian said, snuggling the back of his head to Teuvo’s bare chest like a pillow, stroking his shoulders and arms slowly with the palm of his hand.

They kept cuddling in silence; the phone had apparently lost the radio connection. All Teuvo heard was Sebastian’s breath and the even humming of the air conditioning of the large apartment complex.

He ignored the post-game weariness creeping into his body after the long day and night. He didn’t want to let go of the embrace even though Sebastian’s touches had started to burn his skin worse than the alcohol ever had, carrying the grave and acute feeling of farewell, of impending loss.

 _Hold on as long as you can_ , they said, _tomorrow you’ll be sidelined, replaced._

 

Sebastian was already up when Teuvo got out of bed in the morning. They had slept in their own rooms: Teuvo hadn’t been sure if he could get sleep but the drained body had taken control and knocked him out as soon as his head had hit the pillow.

There was some rustling in Sebastian’s room. When Teuvo peeked in, Sebastian looked warily up from a plastic trash bag, one high-heeled shoe in his hand, the other one already in the bag. Teuvo could see it through the clear plastic, on top bunched black and red fabric. The lingerie and stockings were stuffed on the bottom of the bag.

Sebastian dropped the other shoe on top of the other and placed the bag on the floor. He looked at Teuvo, shoulders dropped and eyes anxious like after a bad loss.

“Morning,” Teuvo said.

“Morning,” Sebastian replied. He took a side-step to his closet, picked up Teuvo’s jersey that was hanging on a wire hanger from the doorknob and handed it to him. “I checked, it should be clean. I can get it washed if you want,” he said.

Teuvo shook his head. “You don’t have to.” He swallowed and nodded at the trash bag. “And those?”

“I can’t keep them around. It was fun, but…“ Sebastian sighed and looked at him pleadingly. “Can we just not talk about it? It’s… I gotta try,” he said, voice fading down to a mumble.

He picked up the plastic bag, tossed a lipstick into it from his bedside table and tied it into a knot.

“You shouldn’t toss the shoes in the trash. They’re Louboutins,” Teuvo said numbly. His voice felt mechanical and he knew his words made no sense in this situation.

Sebastian looked at the bag with hollow eyes. “I guess,” he said vaguely. “Sell them on eBay if you like.”

Teuvo shook his head and waved with his hand, he didn’t want to think about it. “Whatever.”

He turned to leave but Sebastian’s sudden “ _Teukka,_ ” at the same time weak and sharp, stopped him.

Sebastian grabbed his hand and pulled him into a hug, a short, tight squeeze. “We’re cool, right?” he said, seeking Teuvo’s eyes when they parted again, “I couldn’t have made it here without you. We’ll stay friends, won’t we?”

Teuvo forced a smile on his face, managed to even let out a soft chuckle. “Do I have a choice? We’ll be neighbors and roommates. Linemates, if Peters doesn’t put us in the blender. Might as well be friends, too.”

 

The night before Christmas Eve hadn’t been the first time.

Teuvo had expected it to be the last time but… eventually it didn’t stay that way.

They didn’t continue right away. Sebastian was actually living together with somebody and didn’t want to be an asshole. He was in a relationship and acted accordingly.

Tried to, at least.

For the first month or so. They didn’t really count, because they didn’t really talk about it.

Towards the spring, there were… momentary lapses, would have probably been Sebastian’s choice of words if he ever had needed to find ones to talk about it.

A hotel night, where built-up frustration from a disappointing game was easiest to unwind with a mutual jerk-off.  A celebration hug after a good game evolving into a heated kiss. One time, sheer boredom at naptime, a wrong time zone keeping the sleep far away, led to a slow, exploring make-out session.

Individual momentary lapses.

At least Sebastian kept a lid on it at home. When he went upstairs to play CoD of FIFA, they really did play.

If at some point of the day the game blazed on the screen on its own, controllers abandoned on the floor while two hockey guys made out on the couch, limbs entangled, bodies absorbing warmth and strength from each other, it was nobody’s business.

 

 


	3. The Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>    
> Quit playing games with my heart.
> 
>   

 

Sebastian is on the phone again like he’s almost all the time these days. He nods a greeting to his mom, lets his gym bag drop on the floor and comes to the kitchen to fill a glass with water from the tap, chuckling at something he hears in his earbud.

Planning a three-day weekend trip is obviously a task that his son takes very seriously, Sebastian’s mother observes. He seems to come up with another detail he has to check with his friends almost hourly.

“Yeah, I’d opt for a car, too. And the traffic is going to be easier on Friday than Thursday. I don’t think you’ll miss that much if you don’t come for the first night,” he says and listens.

“Obviously you’ll miss a day of my great company. And all the tasteless dick… JOKES!” he hurries to add.

Maybe he’d better take this call to his room.

“I meant the bands”, Sebastian says, closes the door behind him and throws himself on the bed. “ _Popeda_  is headlining and I don’t think I want to see it.”

“Why not?” Teuvo asks in the other end.

“Less fucking suffering that way! Pulju will try to stream the whole show live to Pate anyway. Or call him every three minutes and say that they’re going to play the  _Tappara_  song next and I know Pate couldn’t care less.”

Teuvo lets out a soft laugh. “I can imagine that. He’d just be cranky as hell.”

“Yeah, exactly. He’ll need all his beauty sleep to make his gracious loser face for the cameras in the Calder ceremony.” Teuvo hears the sardonic smile in Sepe’s voice.

“Now you’re being just mean, Sepe. Laine can’t help his looks, he was born with that big head. Not everybody can look as pretty losing as you.”

“When did you last saw me lose anything, asshole?”

Teuvo bites his tongue not to say “ _I think you know it_ ” or, worse,  _“I’ve seen your face when you break apart and that’s the most fucking beautiful sight ever”_ because the loaded silence after that would take this conversation to a dangerous direction, dangerous because he doesn’t know what that direction is. If it gets sexually charged, at some point he’ll end up feeling like shit for having been fooled into it again, if it gets awkward it’s bound to make the weekend start very uncomfortably.

He laughs the question off. “So, Jesse decided to come?” he asks instead, to make conversation.

 “Yeah, it seems so. And it made me think – do you know Hine?”

“Roope Hintz? Yeah, I’ve met him, why?”

“I could ask him to come too. I got the impression he’s there down south. Your drive would be less boring if you have some company. So you don’t fall asleep at the wheel.”

“You’re caring for me. Cute.”

“And he could babysit Pulju.”

“Why would Jesse need a babysitter?”

“Just in case.” Sebastian feels a heat of embarrassment creeping on his cheeks. This sounds like he’s implying more than he thought he would.

Teuvo, the little shithead, clings to it instantly. “Oh. In what case?” he asks.

“I don’t know. Maybe you’ll get fed up with hanging out with kids.”

“You mean like you?” Teuvo says, because if Sepe is headed this way, he will want to see what’s coming next, contrary to his initial reluctance, against the gut feeling that warned that nothing good will come out of this.

“Why would I mean like me? Everybody says I’m very mature,” Sebastian chuckles.

“Don’t read what people say about you in the media, that’s the ground rule. You should know that”, Teuvo says softly.

They fall into a silence that prickles on skin like little needles. Teuvo is the first to break it.

“It’s okay, I can drive with Hine if he’s coming”, he says.

“Nice. I’ll ask him.”

“Do that. If he’s free I’ll bring you your Pulju-sitter.”

Sebastian laughs. “Great. We can ditch them to the playground and go do grown-up things.”

_Oh._

_I’m not biting that bait, I’m not._

“Adult entertainment?” Teuvo asks despite himself.

Sebastian moves his chewing gum from one cheek to another with his tongue, then back, trying to buy time to come up with an answer. He realizes he’s half hard in his jeans right now and he didn’t expect that to happen when he started this phonecall.

“I’m all in”, he says.

 

~¤~

 

Roope feels that Teukka spends as much time talking on his phone as talking to him when he’s driving. When they switch, Teuvo starts taking unnecessary photos of the boring traffic or funny roadside signs, obviously sharing them somewhere, and scrolls his phone for answers.

When the phone vibrates with another message and Roope has to stop in one of the very few traffic lights along the way Teuvo quickly shows him the screen. There’s a basket full of knitted socks with a caption  _jussi’s productive summertime hobby_  and the Hurricanes guy giggles like it’s the funniest joke ever.

Okay, so their host Sebastian is doing the exact same thing, taking useless pics of his surroundings and sending them to his teammate.

Roope hasn’t played with Teuvo that often, sure they know each other but he’s always got the impression of Teuvo being nice in a mellow and calm way. Now he’s upbeat and bubbly and it’s cool, those are fun kind of people to be with.

 

Teuvo feels fidgety, almost giddy, that’s all he can say, because all other feelings are a tumbled mess inside his head and belly. Usually he’d hide them behind an overly cool demeanor but now they surface as a mental itch that he rubs with getting giggly and cracking bad jokes of anything he sees.

Gosh, he’s turning all  _Sepe_.

Does he really miss those skinny legs and that awful sense of humor that much?

 

Oh yes. He does. Teuvo can’t deny it when they arrive at Jussi’s house and Sebastian strides out of the front door to greet them, show them where to park and help with their bags.

All that time Teuvo has a hard time tearing his eyes off Sepe’s body.

The boy has not taken a long lazy rest after his busy rookie year, that’s for sure. Some serious workout must have been happening because it’s not been even two months since they’ve seen each other but yet…

He didn’t remember there were that sharp angles on the cheekbones, on the jawline; no traces of smooth baby roundness anywhere. And he seems so  _strong_. He’s always been, but has Teuvo ever noticed the ease with which he does the simple everyday things, carries himself, lifts and moves objects? As simple an action as opening the door, how his fingers curl on the handle, how the wrist flexes when he pushes it down and pulls the door open.

“You’re staring.” Hine’s chin is on his shoulder, the whisper tickles his earlobe. Teuvo mutters a barely audible  _fuckyou_  as an answer and enters the house, shaking the nosy youngster off his shoulder.

 

Teuvo is relieved to notice that he knows most of the people in the house and even the ones he hasn’t met before are easy to get along with. There are some Sebastian’s friends from childhood and junior years who have not pursued to play hockey professionally. There’s Joonas Donskoi who tells he’s staying at some other summer cottage with a bunch of people closer to his age but, having met Sebastian’s guys between some of the gigs, he’s come to hang out with them today.

Sebastian is at ease among all of them, brings out bowls of popcorn and tells they’re having food a bit later. He circles so close around everyone, squeezes shoulders, musses hair, shares laughs, nudges elbows. He mock wrestles with Donskoi on the back terrace to harass him in the middle of a ping pong game with Pulju and cheers when Jesse’s pass gets through due to the success in his effort.

All of it sets out a queasy flutter in Teuvo’s belly. He’s getting more and more uncertain about where he stands.

That is, until he catches Sebastian’s gaze over everyone’s heads. Their eyes lock and for a moment it’s like there is nobody else in the room, a mute moment in a vacuum, all air suddenly sucked out.

Then Sebastian turns to laugh at something Hine is saying. The bubble is burst, air rushing back in, and Teuvo knows even less about where they are standing.  _If_  they are standing anywhere. If there is a  _they_  at all.

He hates the prickly feeling under his eyelids. He’s out here to have fun, damn it. Grumpy old Olli Määttä can go fuck himself with his warnings.

He swallows hard and goes to get a glass of water to ease his nerves.

 

When Sebastian comes around the cupboard corner to the kitchen area, Teuvo is filling the second glass from the tap of the kitchen sink. Without further thinking Sebastian brackets the older teammate to the edge of the sink, hands on the edge of the counter both sides of him, letting his body press softly to Teuvo’s back.

“What are you doing?” To Sebastian’s surprise, Teuvo goes rigid between him and the counter and looks over his shoulder with an almost angry look on his face.

“Sorry,” Sebastian mutters and backs off throwing his hands up in the air as an exaggerated sign of withdrawal.

Teuvo turns to face him, looking over Sebastian’s shoulder out the living room window. The rest of the guys are on the terrace with their beer and cider bottles, Pulju gesturing with one hand over to the beach. “Look,” Teuvo says, turning his serious gaze to Sebastian’s eyes, “If you’re starting with the usual shit of yours, leave me out of it.”

Sebastian frowns and gives Teuvo a discerning look. “What do you mean?” he asks, his hands warily in midair, like he has forgot to let them hang down after lifting them in the air, or like he’s holding and invisible hockey stick in front of him, guarding his body from judgment.

“I appreciate you inviting me here but there’s something I don’t want to deal with here. I don’t want you coming on to me if whenever it leads to something you pull back and totally shut me out. Don’t do anything if you don’t mean it.”

There’s a warning tone to Teuvo’s voice, a touch of steel Sebastian is not used to hearing.

“Sorry”, he repeats. “I didn’t know.”

“Are you sure you didn’t?” Teuvo asks. There’s a chilling coldness creeping next to the steely tone in his voice. “Why did you stop talking to me?”

 

~¤~

 

Teuvo couldn’t remember the date even if he tried. It was one of the days just after the end of the regular season, everything a blur of emotions and errands: disappointment, accumulated post-game tiredness, summer plan puzzles falling together, locker room clearing, contract negotiations, medical check-ups.

His turn to drive home, Sebastian tapping the frame of the passenger side window with fingertips to the nameless pop music, Sebastian’s girlfriend on an out-of-town shopping trip before traveling back to Finland.

Sebastian asking “CoD?” on the elevator, himself agreeing, Sebastian’s “See you in twenty”.

 

Teuvo left his door unlocked as usual when he knew Sebastian was coming up, Sebastian locked it behind him from the inside, as usual.

The game never got past the menu screen.

They never made it to the couch.

It was Sebastian’s nervous eyes that got him, asking a wordless question.  _What now?_

Or his hands, soft, a bit clammy. When Teuvo took them in his own, they warmed up.

A moment of focused anticipation, like waiting for the puck to drop before face-off, lips crashing together like an attack. How it turned into a near-wrestle of fists curling on T-shirt fabric, biceps, hair, back of the neck.

Trying to blindly slouch down on the couch together, missing it for godssakes, sliding down from the edge of the cushion, giggly as hell because what the fuck.

_The world was on fire, no-one could save me but you._

Sebastian under him on the soft rug, wrists pinned to the floor. Like the rookie didn’t have the strength to wrestle out of it if he wanted to. Teuvo letting his weight relax down on him like a blanket, a deep kiss that started slow like melting butter, intensifying as it sent heatwaves down the body, electric signals of lust through the nervous system. Sebastian’s pulse throbbing under his fingertips, mouth open and sloppy, compliant. His thighs parting for Teuvo’s knee to dig down between them, take support from the plush rug.

_It’s strange what desire will make foolish people do._

Teuvo let go of the wrists and laced his fingers with Sebastian’s, palms of their hands clinging together, each pad of Sebastian’s fingertips warm between his knuckles.

The body shifted under him, warm and vivid, aligning their thighs, their hips. It made a tentative roll upwards, the kind to send an electric shock through Teuvo’s whole being.

He broke from the kiss to look Sebastian in the eye, as if to see if he had felt it right. Sebastian looked back, straight in his eyes, without blinking. His lips were red, mouth open like taking in deep breaths in the middle of an exercise. He was squeezing his thighs together around Teuvo’s and repeated the roll, an impatient little buck upwards to grind against the front of Teuvo’s sweatpants.

Teuvo could feel every inch where Sebastian was hard inside his jeans. Every spot of their dicks touching through layers of fabric.

He rolled his hips, a little turn sideways, a stern brush upwards. Sweet pressure, tingling flames; blood rushing down, centering in the pit of his belly, burning on his cheeks, in his eyes. Heart racing, pounding in his throat, chest, between his legs.

The toned body under him in constant movement, undulating, grinding their cocks relentlessly together.

Sebastian leaned up and kissed him for what felt like minutes. After a while he started making little moaning noises into Teuvo's mouth, detached from the kiss and arched his neck backwards, hair spreading on the rug around his head. His neck stretched so pale, long and slender, and Teuvo had no choice but to put his mouth on it, eat it with devouring open-mouth kisses. They elicited another set of little hot noises out of Sebastian’s mouth, soft growls evolving to high needy whimpers.

Teuvo felt Sebastian’s squirming shift a gear to something firmer and deeper. He detached his mouth from the neck to lean up to his elbows. Sebastian looked at him with veiled glassy eyes, lips parted but breath withheld, superficial.

Teuvo pushed his hips down the hardest he could with another roll, and Sebastian’s body shuddered and froze, he threw his head backwards, let out a helpless wailing from his open mouth, pink flush climbing to his pretty face from neck up.

He lied down, silent, eyes closed. Teuvo let go of the hands, stroked the smooth brown hair, kissed the boy’s cheek with soft, light pecks.

Neither said anything for a long while.

 

For days Teuvo hoped that time had stopped there. He would have preferred not having seen Sebastian’s eyes when he eventually opened them again.

Sebastian looked away for a long time, swept only short, sidelong glances at Teuvo like checking out a scene of an accident, to see if the horror and blood and gore were still there.

Teuvo could take it for only so long. He cupped Sebastian’s cheek, forced him to turn his head straight.

“Look at me,” he said.

Sebastian looked, like a frightened animal would, eyes full of repentance and fear, frowning.

The gaze twisted Teuvo’s gut. It hurt to be somebody’s mistake, somebody’s lapse, something to regret and sweep under the rug like shards of a broken vase.

_I never knew that I’d lose somebody like you._

“I gotta go. Sorry”, Sebastian mumbled and shuffled out from under him, got up on his feet clumsily, wavering.

“See you”, he said on his way out, never looking over his shoulder.

 

~¤~

 

“I’m sorry. I freaked out after the last time and it’s not your fault,” Sebastian says quietly.

“You think I don’t know it’s not my fault? Is it supposed to make it easier?” Teuvo retorts.

“I’m sorry, Teukka. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know if ‘sorry’ covers it.”

Sebastian bites his lip from the inside, looking pensive, like he’s thinking hard about what to say.

Teuvo is almost ready to leave when Sebastian moves his gaze back in his eyes. “I know but I still need to say it,” Sebastian says. “And thank you for coming here. It means a lot.” Sebastian swallows, looks suddenly a little nervous. “More than anybody else”, he adds quietly, like a confession.

 

Music starts booming on the terrace and someone shouts loudly.

“Oh shit, Jesse, your thing is all hot!”

The tone of the voice sounds alarming and Sebastian bolts immediately for the door. Teuvo sighs and strolls slowly in his wake to see what’s the ruckus.

Pulju is squatted down on the terrace, detaching the plug of a hoverboard charger from the wall socket. As soon as it’s off, he drops the device on the deck planks, curses and takes the side of his hand in his mouth.

“What the hell, Jesse!” Sebastian yells at the big guy, his teammate from years of playing in Finland and more than one international tournaments. “I told you to charge that fucking thing on a non-flammable surface, I showed you where, on the concrete near the garage door.”

“But the other one is there”, Jesse says quickly, detaching his burned hand from his mouth only for a moment.

Sebastian runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “You have two of these plugged in at the same time? No, Jesse, no! At least you gotta find places that are under different fuses.”

Jesse rolls his eyes. “All right, mom!”

“Don’t you fucking mom me, Pulju. We talked about this. I’m supposed to be in charge here. I don’t want to be responsible for anyone of us torching Jussi’s house down. And neither do you. Now take that stupid thing off the wood. Please.”

Jesse shakes his head and chuckles at Sebastian’s tone but picks up the scooter – relieved that it isn’t even hot anymore – and takes the few steps down from the side of the terrace to take his machine to the place Sebastian is pointing at.

Sebastian rubs his face with his fingers and turns around.

“Gosh. I need a drink”, he sighs.

“I thought you were supposed to be in charge here,” Teuvo mocks him softly.

Sebastian casts him a sidelong look and shoves Teuvo’s upper arm with his own. It’s effortless, natural, to use exactly the right amount of force on the most everyday gesture like that with Teuvo: they’re so matching in size, and over the past year they’ve been in direct physical contact for countless hours of training.

“I can be better in charge of that idiot if I sink closer to his level,” Sebastian mutters face deadpan and grabs a beer from a cooler on the table. There’s not that much need for a cooler, though: Jokinen’s weather forecasts were right, it’s hellishly cold even in the sun, air feels like early spring instead of the sunniest peak of the summer.

“I thought he was your friend,” Teuvo says.

Sebastian looks at him firmly. “He is. One of the best. I wouldn’t say shit like that about anyone I don’t really love.  And I wouldn’t let anybody else say shit like that about anyone I really love.”

 

~¤~

 

The festival area is as depressing as it is loud. As their motley bunch approaches it on their chosen vehicles – borrowed bikes, walking, Jesse and Hine alternating between Jesse’s two devices from hell, the two-wheel hoverboard that almost set Jussi’s back terrace on fire and a newer unicycle option – Teuvo starts thinking they could as well have stayed in.

There was at least as much a party atmosphere in the house, with chatter and yelling over the gradually rising volume of the Finnish rap and dance pop that kept blasting in the house, TV blaring muted highlights from the NHL streaming. Sebastian downed black candy shots with the guys, and one of his old friends appeared to be a professional cook and grilled them an enormous platter of delicious spicy chicken that was demolished as quickly as it was put on the table.

On the other hand it’s nice to get outside. Teuvo is riding a bike next to Sebastian slowly and lazily behind the others and casts a gloomy glance at the front of the crowd where Roope Hintz is balancing on Jesse’s airwheel, his golden locks waving in the wind from the sea.

Hintz has been super handsy with Sebastian. During some suggestive mid-tempo dance tunes the tall blonde has grabbed him by the hips and guided him to a swaying motion. Teuvo has been talking to Sebastian and Roope has emerged out of nowhere, draped an arm around Sebastian’s neck like a tactile snake and pulled him close, pretended to bite his ear, cheek or jawline.

What’s worse and more unnerving is that it’s almost like he’s done it to deliberately annoy Teuvo. An arm around Sepe’s neck, lips close to his ear, Hine has cast a long look across the room with his peculiarly light ice blue eyes, as if to see if Teuvo is watching.

It’s a relief he’s scooting far ahead now.

 

It’s another relief that the slow bike ride in the cold wind sobers Sebastian up noticeably. That way most of the kids that come to talk to them - some to exchange a shy word or two, others for selfies, hugs and autographs - are more drunk than Sepe and he manages to put his polite professional-athlete-nice-role-model game face on at the phone cameras pointed at him.

If they only knew, Teuvo thinks and an array of emotions rushes through him.

They don’t, they never do, he knows it from experience, the chosen blindness of the oblivious public eye. People see what they want to see.

“Can you get closer together?” a girl asks, taking a pic of her friend squeezed between him and Sebastian.

Oh yes they can, and the girl giggles when she’s snug between them, under their armpits.

Maybe they shouldn’t but they can.

Teuvo feels Sebastian’s hand grip his shoulder tighter. For a moment he longs for those fingers digging in his flesh so hard it would hurt and hates himself for wanting it, for being so easy and weak for it.

 

The other guys are lost somewhere in the sea of music, people, cold sea wind carrying in fine sand and general drunkenness. Teuvo and Sebastian are convinced they’ll run into them sooner or later and wander around together, blending in the crowd more and more all the time.

They even try to dance to one of the acts because it’s not very crowded up front. When Teuvo gets a water bottle spilled over his chest and Sebastian receives and elbow on his head they try to check if it’s more peaceful in the VIP area.

 

Sebastian asks for a plastic bag with ice from the bar for his head and Teuvo laughs at him for being such a princess about it. They spot their mates at a table and proceed to order as many drinks as they can carry, only having to negotiate about the number of them with the staff very shortly.

Sebastian gulps his vodka with coke standing up at the end of the table until Hine pulls him down on his lap.

“I have a place for you right here,” he exclaims.

Sebastian giggles and looks over his shoulder in the booze-foggy light blue eyes. “You want me to sit on your dick?”

“You wish. It’s a  _knee_.” Roope bounces the said leg up and down to emphasize his words. “You would notice it if it was my dick.”

“ _You_  wish he would notice, Hine,” Pulju chimes in and everybody breaks out in general guffaws of laughter. Teuvo hopes the grin he forces on his face makes it look like he’s joining in, because any actual laughter dies in his throat before reaching the lips.

The talking goes on like a buzzing beehive around his head. He’s not that able to concentrate on specific words any more, maybe he doesn’t want to. He still doesn’t have a seat.

A guy in a Hawks snapback approaches him to talk about his previous NHL team and produces a marker from the pocket of his cargo pants, asking him to sign the cap. When the fan eventually leaves, Teuvo notices he has drifted further away.

The beehive buzz goes on at the table. Teuvo hears a giggly yelp, words “lap dance” and sees Roope shove a five euro bill in Sebastian’s back pocket and slap his hand over it hard enough to make a taut thud. Sebastian leaps out of Roope’s reach and ends up next to Teuvo, reaching his shoulder for balance.

Teuvo sighs and gives him a tired look.

“Do you have a key on you, Sepe? I’m not feeling too well. I could go back and try to sleep. I’ll keep my phone on, I’ll let you guys in when you come,” he says flatly.

Sebastian gives him a tentative look.

“I’ll come with you,” he offers immediately.

Teuvo shrugs. “Whatever,” he mumbles.

 

Teuvo pedals fast, standing up for uphills, taking up speed on downhills. Sebastian picks up pace, he’s not going to be left behind.

When they stand the bikes next to Jussi’s fence, they're both a bit out of breath.

“What the fuck was that about?” Sebastian asks, walking almost backwards on the deck leading to the front porch.

“What was what about? Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” Teuvo retorts.

“The speed racing, Teukka?” Sebastian asks. He turns the key in the lock and lets them in, all the while looking at Teuvo. “And what should you be asking me?”

Teuvo hates the cold uneasiness he's feeling and he hates himself for acting it out. But he's not going to say he's sorry, he's not the one who has anything to apologize.

“The shit with Hine? You guys have some history I don’t know about?” he asks.

Sebastian frowns. He toes off his shoes but keeps his bomber jacket and warm hoodie, still chilly from the freezing wind.

He feels taken aback by the questioning tone, sure. But on the other hand, he has nothing to hide. And the least he wants is Teuvo to imagine something where there is nothing.

“Shit, no!” he smiles to lift the mood, to make his words as nonchalant and light as he can. “He’s a friend. All that shit is just a party joke, you know.” Sebastian slouches on the couch and puts the TV on. “Hine is into girls, definitely,” he adds, like an afterthought.

“Party joke, huh?” Teuvo can’t help the irritation leaking in his voice. He wishes he found the words reassuring but they only manage wind him up. Does Sebastian have any idea what he’s doing to him?

Teuvo knows exactly how he’s going to sound if he asks the question that stirs his brain. Needy. Whining.

Heartbroken.

He would like to brush it off, talk about anything else, wind this shit somehow into something fun again.

“A party joke, Sebastian? What else is a party joke to you? Is that what I was about? Another party joke?”

Sebastian’s eyes widen, he shakes his head genuinely surprised. “No. No! Hell, no. Never.”

“How am I supposed to know that? Where’s the difference?”

Sebastian frowns, like he’s not used to explaining himself in something like this. Finally he shakes his head, looks down and more or less mumbles his answer. “You gotta know the difference, Teuvo.”

That doesn’t really tell anything. Teuvo starts feeling vexed again.

Sebastian has his little flirty things, little mutual jokes with a number of people. How is he supposed to know if the boy himself doesn't even have any words for it?

“Sepe," he says to get Sebastian’s full attention. Sebastian tilts his head up to look at him.

“What happened between you and Eddie?” he asks.

Sebastian takes a moment and narrows his eyes. He juts his chin forward in a sudden moment of defiance.

“Why should it concern you, really? You probably wouldn’t want me to tell Eddie anything that’s supposed to be between you and me. He should have the same right,” he says.

Teuvo feels a flush of heat creeping up his neck but keeps his face rigid. “So there was something?” he asks.

Sebastian looks back at him just as icily.

“Maybe, maybe not. Maybe I’ve just had enough of you giving me the third degree about anybody I may or may not talk to. Like it’s any of your business, really.”

Teuvo almost opens his mouth but purses his lips to prevent himself from ruining this any worse. Sebastian clicks the volume setting of the remote control. The cold white midnight hour means that it’s evening in Chicago and the first round of the draft is about to start, offering a blessed safe distraction from the death of their conversation.

 

~¤~

 

Sebastian more felt than heard or saw the presence approaching him from behind, so he didn’t even blink in surprise when Eddie bracketed him with his long arms, trapping Sebastian between his body and the edge of the bar counter.

It was an away game and some of the guys were hanging out at an Irish pub next door to the hotel. Teuvo had been scratched from the game and had stayed sulking in the hotel room.

"Tjäna Sebbe," Eddie said, dragging out the Swedish greeting, the Swedish nickname.

Sebastian merely glanced over his shoulder, smiling politely. “Go’kväll, herr Läck,” he answered formally.

Eddie laughed and messed Sebastian’s hair with the edge of his bearded chin like he had no sense of personal space. “You’re too cute, Sebbe,” he chuckled. He leaned to the other side to have a more convenient eye contact but kept the other arm around Sebastian’s back.

“So, can I get you something? What’s your drink?” Eddie asked. He changed to English, clearly wanting Sebastian to enjoy the conversation instead of struggling to hang on.

Sebastian looked at him. “Don’t you remember?” he asked in return.

Eddie’s smile widened and a pleased gleam lit up his eyes. “Oh yes, Sebbe,” he said. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten anything.”

Sebastian tilted his head, looked down and returned his gaze up to Eddie’s clear eyes. “About what?” he asked.

“Trying to be a little tease, are you? The Halloween party. How I was the one left out, without your attention.”

Sebastian smiled. “I remember giving you plenty of attention.”

Eddie turned fully to face Sebastian, reluctantly bringing his other arm to his side from behind Sebastian’s back. He shrugged and tilted his head from side to side. “Not enough”, he said.

“You’re greedy.”

“Maybe I am. You say it’s like a bad thing.”

“It’s a deadly sin. I have heard.”

Eddie shook his head and pointed at Sebastian’s chest. “You were the devil. You should have liked it.”

“What?” Sebastian widened his eyes and raised his eyebrows to a comically innocent questioning face.

“Me sinning. And getting greedy for you.”

Sebastian felt fluttery, like walking on thin ice, or balancing on a tightrope between fun and trouble. He let out a soft chuckle of approval that made Eddie lean closer to talk.

“You could have shown me some more tricks with your tongue. And I definitely wanted to dive under that little red skirt.”

“Right there on the table? You’re bad.”

Eddie licked his lips and grinned widely. “Oh baby. You don’t know half.”

This was definitely leaning to the side of trouble on the tightrope. Sebastian couldn’t think of anything to say; he waggled his eyebrows and looked down.

Eddie swayed softly on his feet, like dancing to some silent music. “Too bad your boyfriend got jealous and cut it short,” he said.

Sebastian’s fluttery excitement died down. He didn’t like the sound of the word.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” he muttered lower than he would have liked to. He wished to get back up on the high buzz he had been feeling, to ride the wave of excitement, the path that had been leading to unknown fun, but he knew he probably couldn’t get the feeling back. The moment was gone.

“Hey, guys!” Joakim Nordström’s hands landed on Sebastian’s and Eddie’s shoulders. “What are you doing here, keeping our rookie awake? Little ones need their sleep,” he scolded Eddie.

Sebastian elbowed Nordy quickly in the ribs. “Little one, dude?  _Please,_ ” he said, rolling his eyes. “But yeah, I should crash. Nice talking to you, Eddie. Good night, guys.”

He was relieved that Nordy had cut in when things were about to get awkward; and in a way, he was even happier that the outside interruption had saved him from being the one to give up, the one to call it quits.

 

~¤~

 

This is not how Sebastian pictured it would go. This is certainly not the way he hoped it would go.

Yes, he has ended up sharing the master bedroom with Teuvo, partly because he claimed the room the first night and besides the living room couch, the other half of Jussi’s bed is the only place left. So yeah, he had it kind of calculated that way.

But not like this, backs turned to each other, staring silently into the light grey emptiness, like an old married couple, the kind in a bad need of a divorce or some heavy counseling.

A pang of guilt weighs his chest.  Teuvo reached out for him, he noticed it, took it in earnest and said he was sorry. He listened and understood when Teuvo said that saying sorry isn’t going to be enough. He made a silent promise to himself to step up and make it okay.

Since then, what? He has slumped down to the easy fun familiar party mood, lived in the moment like he always does. Has he tried  _anything_  he could call an effort?

The exact opposite.

 

 


	4. The Whitest Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _But, baby, I'm gonna get you back,_  
>  _I'm gonna show you what I'm made of_  
>     
>    
>   - Don Henley, The Boys of Summer

 

Teuvo is not a morning person, even less so after a late night and troubled sleep.

He knows Sebastian is the same. That’s why it’s odd to find the bed empty and hear Sebastian’s voice on the phone outside the bedroom door, when it’s – what? Eight?

He can’t be bothered to reach for the phone to check the time.

There are distant sounds through dozing off and regaining his senses again. The front door, a car coming or leaving or both. Metallic clatter in the kitchen. Human voices, like a woman was talking on the radio and Sebastian answered her.

Teuvo pulls the covers tighter around himself.

 

Sebastian’s childhood friend Antti wakes up to the unmistakable sound of a mixer and feels obliged to check the situation. He is quite convinced that none of the guys apart from him can cook for shit and if someone is still drunk enough to try it at this ungodly hour he will want to save Sepe’s ass from any damage being done to Jussi Jokinen’s kitchen.

He finds Sebastian standing behind the kitchen island, holding a hand mixer above a plastic bowl, looking down at his work very concentrated.

“Morning,” Antti says. “Can I help you?”

Sebastian twitches a bit startled and shakes his head, lips pursed tight. “I got this,” he says.

 _“Is Antti there? I’m sure he can advise you further.”_ Sebastian’s mother’s voice comes out of Sebastian’s phone that’s lying on the countertop.

“Hi Leena! Yes, I’m here,” Antti says and Sebastian frowns at him, returning his gaze quickly to the batter he is mixing.

 _“Okay, great!”_  Sebastian’s mother says.  _“Sebastian is baking a cake. I texted him the recipe, there should be no problem if he just follows it. You boys have a nice Midsummer!”_

“You too! I’ll see that Sepe doesn’t mess up. If it’s one of yours I’ll want it to come out right. Tell Harri I said hi!”

 _“I will!”_  Sebastian’s mom laughs softly on the phone, says her goodbyes and hangs up.

Sebastian shifts the mixer to a slower setting before turning it off completely.

“How do I know when it’s good?” he asks, looking at Antti sincerely worried, like he was truly afraid of screwing this up. “Mom said it should be double in volume and the colour should turn out very light, almost white. And something about a number eight.”

Antti looks in the bowl. “It looks okay,” he says. “What she probably meant was this, let me show you,” he says and takes the mixer that Sebastian lets go very reluctantly. Antti dips the whippers in the batter and lifts them up, letting the batter trickle back to the bowl, moving his wrist so that he keeps drawing circles on the surface of the batter. They stand there for a moment before blending in. “That’s what she meant. You’ve beaten the eggs fluffy enough.”

Sebastian takes the mixer back and tries the trick. He gets it and it feels nice, to learn something new, or relearn something forgotten. He has a vague memory that they have done something like this in home ec years ago.

“Do you have the dry ingredients mixed there?”  Antti asks and nods towards a smaller bowl, “Remember to sift them.”

“Yeah”, Sebastian says, grabs it in his hand and hurries to add, “I got it.”

Antti smiles. He takes over another countertop and starts preparations for breakfast. He works on a peaceful pace, glances occasionally at Sepe from the corner of his eye and tries to look like he isn’t watching over his friend.

 

They have time for a slow, lengthy hangover breakfast when the cake is in the oven. Antti tells everyone to grab some dishes and set them on the table out on the terrace even though the weather hasn’t improved at all. It’s summer and they’re at a summer house, eating outside feels the right way to do it.

Sebastian sneers lazily at Hine who putters with his snus after he’s eaten.

“Be sure to spit it all in the trash or toilet when you’re done, you hear?” Sebastian says.

“Where do you think I would put it?” Roope asks irritated.

“I just mean that you’re dead if they find some dried scraps under the terrace table or chairs, or it blocks the drain of the sink. Why can’t you use the bagged portions? You can’t make a mess with them.”

Roope shrugs. “Didn’t get them anywhere,” he says and tucks the ugly brown blob high up behind his lip.

Jesse remembers something and goes inside.

“Now you do,” he says when he returns, pointing his words at Roope. He places four towers of snus on the table before Hine. “I’ve been to Tornio,” he says like an explanation to the players looking at his lot on the table. “You cross the river to Sweden and buy it at any Ica. This is from the giant candy shop in the Ikea building, they have display fridges full of this near the counter and it should be fresh.”

“You bought it from Ikea? They sell snus?” Teuvo asks.

“Ikea might sell snus,” Jesse replies, shrugging his shoulders. “But I didn’t say this is from there. I said another shop in the same building. I don’t go to Ikea, Ikea is evil.”

Teuvo laughs. “How is Ikea evil?”

Jesse looks at him with wide eyes. “You go in and it’s a terrible maze you have to go all the way through! You come out an hour later with a giant blue bag full of candles and couch cushions. Never again.”

 

Sebastian’s phone starts beeping, and in seconds he’s in the kitchen where the oven beeps its own alarm. Sebastian hasn’t trusted hearing the kitchen timer and has set another alarm on his phone. He’s not going to mess up his mission.

He’s learning that making his mom’s strawberry cake is a lengthy process. There are several short, deceivingly easy phases with hidden traps in them. The cake tin needs to be greased properly and dusted with flour or the whole thing will stick. You have to wait for the cake to cool down before you can cut it to layers for filling it. If you don’t whip the cream enough it’s runny, and if you beat it for too long it turns to butter.

If you don’t hide the strawberries or guard them watchfully Pulju and Donskoi eat them.

“Hey, they’re for the cake!” Sebastian hears himself snapping more times than he ever thought he would.

Donskoi comes to the kitchen when Sebastian is spreading a thick layer of perfect, almost stiffly beaten cream on the top of the cake.

“Need a hand?” Joonas asks sincerely. “I can half those strawberries for you if you want them sliced.”

“No thanks”, Sebastian says, focusing on the knife smoothing the whipped cream over the cake to get it look like he wants it, fluffy and delicious. “I got it.”

 

Sebastian makes coffee and sets the table. He makes an effort to do it nice, suppressing the self-deprecating feeling of being utterly ridiculous as he goes through the kitchen cabinet for some good china, real coffee cups and little cake plates. He even folds napkins (that is, folds them once diagonally but he thinks it counts enough to become an endless source of chirping, but if it does so be it).

Everybody has heard or seen him fuss about in the kitchen for most of the morning and noon but still each in turn asks about the cake.

“You really did this yourself?”

“You mean you didn’t just call your mom and plead her to send another one here in a taxi?”

“It is from that bakery down the highway, isn’t it?”

Sebastian shakes his head, lips pursed tight. Teuvo sits across the table from him and Sebastian gives him a long, almost nervous look.

“Mom made one and I brought it with me but they hogged it on Thursday night. I wanted you to get to taste it. It’s her recipe”, he says almost shyly.

He really, really hopes it tastes good. He has tasted some cake crumbs, he’s licked the filling and whipped cream spoons, checked that every strawberry is intact before he has put them on the cake and everything seemed right but he can’t be sure of the combination.

He shouldn’t need to worry, though. Teuvo’s face gives him a hint that the gesture alone gets him more than halfway. His blonde teammate looks like somebody had just placed a puppy dog in his lap: he glows with delight even though he clearly tries his best not to show it.

“This is good”, he says after the first mouthful and it’s Sebastian’s turn to glow. He’s relieved, proud and pleased.

Joonas nudges Teuvo’s elbow. “Seppo must really miss living with you, wooing you with his kitchen skills like that. I thought you guys didn’t really cook when he stayed in your apartment.”

Teuvo ignores the first part. “No, we didn’t,” Teuvo admits.

“I think Seppo must really miss living with someone else than his parents,” Pulju says.

Hine turns his head surprised from his end of the table. “Oh? You’re living at home, Sepe? Home-home? I thought you had your own place since you made it to the first team with Kärpät. You said you kept it when you left for the NHL. Didn’t your girlfriend stay there?”

Sebastian keeps his gaze down at his cake platter. “She still does. We moved the lease to her name.”

He puts another forkful of cake in his mouth, a chunk so big it will shut him up for a long time, and nobody prongs at him with anything more about the subject.

Except Teuvo. He doesn’t want to ask, he’d like to postpone it, worry about it tomorrow, but he needs to know.

The other guys head mercifully out for the sauna, set in a separate building on the side of the backyard, conjoined to the house with a shared deck. Teuvo offers to clear the table with Sebastian.

“Did I get it right? You broke up with her?” he asks.

Sebastian sighs. “I guess you can say that. We… sort of agreed that now is not the right time for us to be together.”

Teuvo swallows, his face feels hot for no reason. “Did… did you tell her about me? Us?” he asks in a flat, dry voice because all of a sudden his mouth is cotton and his head spins.

Sebastian casts a quick glance at him and focuses on scraping a stuck crumb of cake from the bottom of a coffee cup. “No. I didn’t want her to hold a grudge on you. There’s no reason she should hate you. ” He lifts his eyes back at Teuvo’s on the last word.

Teuvo doesn’t know how he feels. Part of him is relieved. It’s nice to avoid getting in the middle of a break-up that could have got nasty if it came evident that he had a part in it. Another part of him feels left out, cast aside, invisible, forgotten. Denied of existence, of shared history.

“What did you talk about, then? Why did you move out?” he asks.

Sebastian is done filling the dishwasher and slouches down on the kitchen floor, sits there knees prodded up, arms around them, like he’s suddenly too tired to go anywhere else. Teuvo sits warily down facing him, his knees to his side, leaning to one hand. Worry leaks in his voice.

“Tell me, Sepe.”

“I don’t know. I don’t know if she guessed something. Or sensed that something is wrong. It was so easy, no fighting, we just talked about… concrete things. Practical stuff.” Sebastian shrugs slightly and goes on, like he wants to get the lot off his chest at once. “She had applied to the university in Oulu and knows in two weeks if she’s accepted. The apartment is really useful for her if she is. I said that it was a good thing that she wants to study. That I thought that it’s wrong if she dedicates her time to being practically a housewife to somebody at her age. That I really appreciated that she did it last spring but if you think it right, she should be doing her own thing, using her potential.” Sebastian looks at Teuvo, there’s defiance in the way he juts his chin out. “I don’t think I lied.”

Teuvo takes his time processing it. When he opens his mouth to say something, there’s loud racket at the back door and Hine all but stumbles in the living area. Sebastian gets quickly up, dusting the back of his pants like something had stuck to them from the floor, and Teuvo follows him before Hine reaches the kitchen.

“Threshold, shit”, Hine pants. “Drinks. I came to fetch drinks for the fridge in the sauna.”

Sebastian and Teuvo make way for him to get to the large fridge. Hine fishes out a large carton case of beer cans, ciders packed together in a plastic wrapper and a six-pack of breezers, balancing them in a shaky pile on his arms.

“You sure you have enough alcohol there?” Teuvo asks with a lopsided grin on his face. “You might like some soft drinks too.”

“It’s all right, there’s water and glasses,” Hine replies.

Sebastian reaches to take the breezers down to his hand from the top of the pile and goes on with the ciders, handing them to Teuvo.

“We’ll give you a hand here. Judging from your entrance you shouldn’t carry all these alone,” Sebastian says to Roope.

“It was the threshold! I wasn’t looking,” he protests.

Sebastian laughs. “That’s the lamest excuse ever! In that case you should stumble flat on your face every time you go on the ice,” he says.

“Maybe he does,” Teuvo suggests.

Hine sticks his tongue out at them.

 

Joonas Donskoi comes out of the sauna hut completely naked.

“It’s warm already! The stove is really good,” he says enthusiastically.

Sepe raises his eyebrows high at him. “Christ, Jone, get a towel! I don’t think Jussi’s neighbors appreciate your snake show.”

“Oh, sor-ry,” Joonas says exaggeratedly. He rolls his eyes but steps back inside, soft meaty dick swinging with his strut.

Teuvo pops his head inside the door.

There’s a little lounge with wooden walls, a couple of wicker chairs and a small table, a wooden bench propped to the wall behind it. There are piles of towels on the bench, Joonas grabs one.

“You all been to the sauna already?” Teuvo asks. He spots the fridge in the corner and enters to load the ciders in it.

“Yeah, the rest are still in there,” Joonas says.

“Is it big?”

Joonas chuckles. “What, you didn’t see it before Sepe forced me to hide my manhood with a towel?”

“Yeah right,” Teuvo smiles. “The sauna, does it seat us all?”

“Doesn’t it always? We’ll just squeeze tighter,” Joonas says.

“It’s not too big,” Sebastian says. He’s bowing down in front of the fridge, storing the breezer bottles there. “It was pretty tight when you and Hine weren’t here and –“ he tilts his head towards the corner where Roope is pulling his shirt off – “looks like he’s going in now.”

“Dudes, you’re not serious,” Joonas says, sipping water from a glass he’s filled from a jug on the table, “You’re not going to stay out.” He doesn’t wait for any answer, though, already on his way back in.

 

Sebastian takes his time. He retreats from the little lounge to the backyard, finds a soccer ball in the crook of the terrace, picks it up, kicks out his plastic slider sandals and starts juggling the ball on his socked feet.

Teuvo watches him from the doorway, leaning to the wall arms crossed. Sebastian makes eye contact to him, stalls the ball on his foot and quickly flicks it at Teuvo.

It's too sudden for Teuvo to react by controlling the ball with his thigh or chest and kicking it back, so he catches the ball in his hands. Teuvo bounces it on the deck like it was a basketball and approaches Sebastian.

God, he'd like to kiss him. Standing there, hands loosely in the side pockets of his warm sweatpants, drowned in a puffy hoodie, backwards cap on his head, thick wool socks squeezed back in the sliders after the football trickery.

"What's up," he asks instead, handing the ball back to Sebastian.

Sebastian leans to the bit of railing that borders that part of the terrace, rolls the ball along his hip and thigh under his forearm. Teuvo takes a place next to him, crossing his arms over his chest. Sebastian looks at him, from his hands up to his face and stops in his eyes. "I don't know," he says.

"You should," Teuvo replies.

Sebastian stares ahead, eyes cast blindly at the meeting point of the terrace and the wall. He looks pensive and nods his head slowly.

He lifts his eyes back to Teuvo by his side.

"You're right," he says. "I should." He pushes himself up and tosses the ball neatly to the place he picked it up from. Teuvo lets his arms down and leans his hands to the railing. Sebastian grazes Teuvo’s arm from wrist up with the knuckle side of his fingers and softly fist bumps his shoulder.

It's almost like he'd want to do more, touch more, uncurl the fist and palm the side of Teuvo's neck but refrains from doing it.

Teuvo's arm tingles from the touch nevertheless and he follows Sebastian in.

  

The unspoken bond, a warm whirr of static electricity, charged atoms, hangs in the air, so fragile that any wrong move or hasty word can discharge it. Sebastian feels it on his skin, in his bones like a rising fever. It adds its weight to every glance he steals at his friend, especially to those fractions of seconds when their eyes meet before quickly turning away again.

He has never felt this exposed undressing; not awkward or uncomfortable but hypersensitive, acutely aware of his nudity.

 

What surprises him the most, or maybe, if he thinks hard about it, the least, is how invisible the tension is to everyone else. The afternoon goes on in a bustle of music, alcohol and naked hollering, and Sebastian lives it like he was split in two, sensing simultaneously two separate layers of reality.

Phones cut in with buzz alarms of draft news which become the main topic of discussion, speculation of the effects of the additions to the teams, or how the picks will affect the careers of the draftees. Those who have experienced it tell their memories of the whole show of waiting, chaos, theater and suspense; those who have a shaky feeling of their past season contemplate silently what the draft picks of their teams mean for their future positions.

Sebastian listens, chimes in, turns silent again. He senses where Teuvo is in the room without looking, the awareness throbs inside his skull like a headache, albeit not that unpleasant.

 

The naked hollering evolves to clothed hollering, the buzzing phones on the sauna terrace to couches in front of Jussi’s giant TV, and pretty soon everybody realizes they’re really hungry.

“Pizza or steak?” Sebastian asks and the steak place gets voted down in favor of pizzas.

They’re too lazy to walk at this point, and a roomy taxi is called to take them to the beach view restaurant halfway to the festival site. They fit around one big table, and the waiter keeps his cool admirably when Jesse refuses to choose one of the carefully selected gourmet topping pizza options on the menu because he’s not going to step away from his usual choice of ham and pineapple.

They’re almost through when Donskoi reaches over the table to pick a chanterelle mushroom from Sebastian’s pizza plate. He knocks down both Jesse’s tall glass of coke and remainders of Teuvo’s red wine. The mixture of liquids splashes down on Teuvo’s chest and lap, soaking his shirt and pants.

“Shit,” Teuvo exclaims, pushes his chair back and jumps up. Sebastian gathers all the clean napkins he gets in his hands to help him out.

“We gotta get you changed,” he says.

“Sorry, man. I’ll pick up the bill.” Donskoi looks apologetic.

“It happens. No problem,” Teuvo says, trying not to look as uncomfortable as he feels.

Sebastian insists on calling a taxi to get them back. “It’s cold. Wet clothes will feel horrible,” he says.

 

Back at Jussi’s Sebastian leaves Teuvo to dig out clean clothes from his bag and heads out of the back door. He returns when Teuvo is looking for a towel to get a shower.

“Don’t bother,” Sebastian says. “Sauna is ready. It was still warm and I put in some new firewood.”

It surprises Teuvo a bit but he decides to go with the flow. The evening is chilly and the mixture of drinks has his shirt clung to his skin really unpleasantly, so Sebastian’s offer does sound nice.

He would be lying if he said he doesn’t have to psych himself up a bit, though.

_It won’t get weird. It’s not too intimate._

Somehow it isn’t. It’s intimate, but not uncomfortably so. There’s a sense of togetherness in sitting in silence, the only sounds breaking it being the fire fuming up the chimney and occasional rattle of wood in the flames. It’s a reminder of how comfortably they clicked together last fall, how easy it was to be friends before things got messy.

How, actually, it took long time for things to get messy. It’s not like sex initially fucked things up.

Still, there was a point when it did, and it keeps Teuvo wary. Falling for a straight guy is the worst, he should have learned it by now, he thinks, but keeps the thought to himself.

“Thanks for inviting me here,” he says instead, leaning forward to his knees, feet up on a wooden railing that surrounds the stove. “I’m sorry I haven’t said it before.”

Sebastian turns and smiles at him. “Well I’m relieved you don’t hate it here,” he says.

Teuvo lets out a soft laughter. “Why would I? The guys are cool. You’re a good friend, Sepe. People tend to like you.”

His sincere remark draws a pleased but shy smile on Sebastian’s lips. He pulls his knees close to him and buries his face in them like he was a child embarrassed by sudden positive attention he doesn’t know how to handle, and it’s so cute Teuvo wants to hug him.

He doesn’t.

 

It’s hard to tell the time. It’s bright as day outside but whatever light gets in through the small window on the back wall is dimmed by wooden blinds. Sebastian peeks out through them.

“We’re completely wasting this place,” he says.

“How come?” Teuvo asks.

Sebastian nods towards the window. “We have a house by the sea to ourselves and nobody has gone swimming.”

Teuvo looks deadpan at him. “I think there’s a reason. The water temperature is just above zero.”

“So? That’s why we have a hot sauna.”

“Besides, I’ve heard you can’t even swim on that beach. It’s too shallow. You wade for half an hour before the water reaches even your knees. Your toes will be frozen off before that.”

“That’s why we don’t walk. We run.”

“We?” Teuvo asks and Sebastian looks at him sternly.

“Yes, we. You see anybody else here? Just run until the water trips you. It’s the only way to do it right.” Sebastian grins and lifts his eyebrows, brown eyes rounded in an expression of puppy dog enthusiasm. Teuvo runs out of reasons to decline.

There’s a door from the shower room to the back of the building, atop of narrow wooden stairs leading to the dunes. Sebastian takes the steps down carefully and Teuvo follows him.

The waterfront is a few dozens of meters away. There’s a higher dune with a patch of vegetation halfway to it; that’s the place where Sebastian abandons his towel and sprints towards the sea. His feet splash icy salty water around him until he eventually falls over with an even larger and louder splash.

Sebastian giggles until he realizes he hasn’t heard another splash. He looks around him and sees Teuvo on the dune where he set off, a towel around his waist, waving another one in his hand. Sebastian can see that he laughs and curses.

He wades to the sand and squints a displeased glare at Teuvo.

“You cheated,” he mutters.

Teuvo hands the towel at him.

“You cheated worse,” he says softly.

Sebastian fumbles at Teuvo’s face with his cold, wet hands. Teuvo tries to duck away, only to have a cold, wet arm draped around his neck in an attempt at a headlock. Sebastian’s skin is damp and cold but luckily he squeezes Teuvo only shortly and lets him go ruffling his hair.

“Okay,” he says, taking the towel from Teuvo’s hand and wrapping hit around himself. He pauses for a moment, looking Teuvo in the eye. “But I’m single now,” he adds matter-of-factly, like an important afterthought, something to be noted for the record.

The sun has probably set, as much as it sets this time of the year. It has sunk out of view but beams its rays to the sky in small angle just below the horizon, painting pastel hues of pink and gold on the canvas of periwinkle blue. The rippling sea reflects the colors like liquid silver.

Sebastian shakes his wet hair, almost black against the backlight of the sky and water. Some cold droplets land on Teuvo’s hand and face but he doesn’t mind.

“Let’s get you warmed up,” he says. He feels like wrapping his arm across the towel-clad shoulders to guide the sweet boy back inside.

He doesn’t.

 

The warmth seeps back in Sebastian’s limbs in almost aching tingle. He rubs his shins and grins.

“Nothing beats this feeling,” he says. “It’s a shame you missed it.”

“Sure,” Teuvo chuckles.

Sebastian flicks water from the steam bucket at him.

The fire is already dying and they let it. It’s time to go out for real, after the delay brought in by Donskoi’s clumsy hands.

“Are you good to bike?” Sebastian asks and Teuvo answers with a wondering shrug, why wouldn’t he be.

 

Teuvo is good to bike but his bike doesn’t serve him well. They are reaching the highest stretch of the seaside road, near the pizza place, when there’s an ugly metallic clank, followed by a deflated puff, and he has to drop down from the saddle because the pedals have jammed.

Sebastian dismounts his bike and walks it back to Teuvo’s side.

“I hit a rock,” Teuvo says and studies the bike. The hit has deflated and probably punctured the rear tyre and the shock has been hard enough to drop the chain from the chainring.

“You can’t ride it. Let’s walk them to the pizza place and I’ll lock them there,” Sebastian suggests.

Teuvo agrees. They continue walking slowly because Teuvo has to hold the deflated, jammed rear of the bike up.

“You asked me about Eddie yesterday,” Sebastian breaks the silence. “I’m sorry I didn’t answer you.”

“It’s cool. You explained me why,” Teuvo says.

Sebastian frowns and shakes his head. “I didn’t really have a reason not to tell you.”

Teuvo gives him a sidelong, quizzical look but doesn’t rush him.

Sebastian stops in his step and leans to the saddle and the handle bar of his bike, kicking the loose sand on the tarmac with the sole of his shoe.

“He kept flirting with me and one night, when we were at a bar but you stayed in, it got pretty intense. I don’t know if it would have led somewhere but then he said something, probably not on purpose, that made me lose interest. It stopped there.”

Teuvo lets the rear wheel of his bike down and keeps it up by the handles. “I saw that I guess but couldn’t tell where it came from. That you both took the distance”, he says. “And you can be pretty solid with the cold shoulder treatment,” he can’t help adding a mild accusation.

Sebastian turns his eyes to Teuvo and looks at him intently. “He called you my boyfriend.”

“And… you didn’t like it? I mean, it was just a joke, right?” Teuvo can’t quite get where Sebastian is coming from and it makes him feel a little shaky.

Sebastian tilts his head to both sides, looking uneasy. “Yeah, of course it was a joke. But sometimes a joke can be close to a slur.”

“But Eddie doesn’t seem like that type, does he? He’s so cool and nice. I’m sure he couldn’t mean it in a bad way.”

Sebastian can’t help chuckling in the middle of it all. “You’re so nice to be defending him,” he says. “But what I meant was –“ he pauses and look pensively around himself, up to the pastel blue midsummer night sky, before returning to Teuvo. “I just didn’t feel comfortable with that kind of word being used as a joke. It can mean so much to a lot of people. Something real. Something that… should be valued.”

That’s about the most adorable and thoughtful thing Teuvo has heard anyone say in a long time.

He doesn’t know how to respond but he has a vague feeling he doesn’t have to, and another vague feeling that says that maybe, in some rare exceptions to the rule, falling for a straight guy isn’t always the worst.

“Sepe,” he says softly, almost whispering, “Thanks for telling me.”

Sebastian detaches one hand from the saddle and places it on the black down jacket over Teuvo’s chest. He stares down on his own hand until he seems to have gathered enough courage to lift his gaze up to Teuvo’s eyes.

“I”, he starts, but words fail him. He gives Teuvo’s chest a soft push instead, presses the puffy jacket flat, eases it and the spot under the palm of his hand inflates, presses again. There he stops, firm brown gaze studying Teuvo’s eyes closely. “You.”

It’s a bit caveman approach to a serious conversation but Teuvo seems to get it. He cups Sebastian’s cheeks with both hands which means nobody’s holding his bike up. It collapses on the tarmac with loud clatter but he couldn’t care less. Sebastian’s bike adds its chords to the metallic racket split seconds later when he leaves the handle bar and the bike falls down on the roadside sand, puffing a cloud of dust in the air.

Sebastian curls his fingers on the back of Teuvo’s head, rubs his scalp with his fingertips and looks him sternly in the eye.

“This is real, you know,” he says, “This is real.”

Teuvo keeps his eyes fixed in Sebastian’s, studies them as if to find affirmation to Sebastian’s words in them. He traces Sebastian’s cheekbones with his thumbs, tucks stray strands of hair gently behind Sebastian’s ears. “You sure?” he asks.

Sebastian turns his head and spits his gum to the ground over his shoulder in one quick blow.

“Sure if you are,” he whispers. He has inched closer, Teuvo can feel the presence of his feet, his knees, almost touching his. Sebastian leans his face in, close enough for the intensive brown gaze to dominate Teuvo’s view.

Teuvo nods slowly. Sebastian’s face is so close the tips of their noses brush together when his head tilts up and down. “I am,” he says and realizes he means it. He’s willing to take the risk now, let go of his guards.

Trust.

How can it feel so easy, so natural, like it was the only option?

It’s such a small move to close the final gap. They make it slowly: not hesitantly but peacefully, embracing every delicate millisecond of breath meeting skin, lips finding each other, pressing softly together, mouths opening to feel and taste, express and explore.

It’s not the first time they’re doing anything like this but in a way it feels like it is.

 

~¤~

 

The music becomes a noisy blur neither of them really registers, a vocal backdrop to being together, to the heightened sense towards anything the other one says or does, towards the proximity, towards touches, as light and little as they can be.

They’ve made it inside the festival area to the very last acts of the night, after a slow and winding walk because they chose to take the stairs down to a plank pathway along the dunes, and because they had to stop for cuddles and kisses every few yards.

“This is pretty public,” Teuvo whispered into Sebastian’s mouth but Sebastian snorted it away with a nonchalant huff. “This is 2017,” he whispered back.

 

They wander into the crowd like a cornfield. Sebastian finds Teuvo’s fingertips and hooks his own under them; he coaxes his fingers between Teuvo’s and keeps them like that. Their fingers are laced so loosely they barely hang together, but here, under the pale Northern Finnish summer night sky, surrounded by people and music, it feels massively substantial. Like it’s bigger than anything they’ve done, more than any hidden, feverish handjob or making out session during the season has been.

Teuvo squeezes the fingers between his own and Sebastian sends him one of his quirky little smiles, the one that is modest and proud, pleased and heedful at the same time. Teuvo flashes back a wide grin with full set of white teeth and gets Sebastian to giggle and butt his forehead to his shoulder.

He could freeze the time right here and be happy for the rest of his life.

 

~¤~

 

Teuvo’s eyes sweep along the waterfront when they approach the house on the beach route back. They have bumped into some of the other guys but none of them has been in a hurry to leave the festival area.

The noise of cars up on the road and the people slowly dispersing from the long silenced concert stages is a distant hum. The closer sounds on this end of the beach are the waves peacefully crashing to the fine sand and squawking seagulls.

Sebastian notices that the bridge of Teuvo’s nose wrinkles to a sneer.

“No bonfires,” Teuvo says to him. “I’ve seen none on either night.”

“They only have bonfires around here on Easter,” Sebastian says.

Teuvo shakes his head and pushes his bottom lip out. “That’s ridiculous. You’re supposed to have a Midsummer bonfire.”

Sebastian looks at him quizzically.

“You’re gonna have your bonfire, Teukka,” he says after a while.

 

Back at the house Sebastian goes straight to the sauna and pockets a box of matches. He goes to a shed where Jussi and Salla keep their firewood and stacks his arms full of the longest ones he can find. Jussi stores good wood, well dried birch, and Sebastian has a moment of bad conscience about using them like this. He balances the pile on one arm to pick up a small handy axe and is ready to go. He nods Teuvo to follow him to the beach.

“Can I help you with anything?” Teuvo asks as Sebastian fiddles around with the wood he has landed on the sand. He’s chosen a spot closer to the waterfront but still on dry sand where the dampness from waves has not reached the surface. He has already stacked some of the wood in a careful formation and is whittling a block of wood neatly with the axe, handling it like he knows what he’s doing. He peels off strips of bark and a good handful of long chips and starts to coax them between and on the wood.

“Let me handle this. Pretend we’re on a date. Just sit back and be pretty,” Sebastian says.

His words give Teuvo a warm and fuzzy feeling inside that fizzes from his chest towards his head, light like soda bubbles. He tilts his head and looks at Sebastian.

“Are you asking me out?”

Sebastian makes a reflective face, like he has to think about this very hard. “Yeah,” he nods and scratches a match alight.

Teuvo smiles. “Good. Then I don’t have to pretend,” he says and ponders for a moment if he could stretch himself on the sand, but it’s cold, so he settles to curling himself in a ball around his knees, hugging them to suffocate a shiver. No matter how warm and fuzzy he’s inside, it’s still chilly.

Sebastian notices his shivering. “Don’t worry. You’ll be warm in no time,” he says, watching pleased how the tinder takes flame and fire starts to spread on the wood. He gets up to collect a couple of driftwood branches he’s spotted on the dunes and places them next to the fire to add there later on.

He settles himself on the cool sand across the fire from Teuvo and lounges on his side, leaning to his elbow. He arranges the burning wood with a long stick.

“This is more like a campfire but at least it’s something,” he says apologetically.

“It’s perfect. You’re too nice.”

“No. You deserve the best.”

“Aw. So sappy. I never knew.”

Sebastian shakes his head, chuckling mildly. “Are you complaining, Teukka?”

Teuvo is close to slipping out  _No because I could get used to this_  but holds his tongue. It would be too much, too soon. He just shakes his head.

“I bet you could get used to this. Being pampered,” Sebastian says softly.

How does he dare do it with such accuracy, stick with his words right in Teuvo’s intestines and make everything tumble inside?

He’s not going to let on how bad the kid messes him up.

“Be careful, Sepe. You don’t want to end up as my slave,” he says.

Sebastian smiles at him. His eyes look so dark through the flames that reflect as little golden dots on the chocolate brown irises.

“It wasn’t so bad the last time,” he replies slowly and everything inside Teuvo melts and stiffens and twists and tangles simultaneously.

_Who is the slave here, and what does it matter._

 

Teuvo loosens his grip from his knees, lowers his feet to his side and leans to his elbow, mirroring Sebastian’s position on the other side of the fire.

The blue of the sky has deepened a notch, the sunset colors have faded down to a narrow golden streak on the horizon. It’s hard to tell whether it tells about the sun having set or getting ready to rise again. The fire barely adds light to the overall ambience but Sebastian is quite sure it gives Teuvo’s hair and face an exceptionally warm glow.

Sebastian doesn’t know if he wants the fire to die so they can leave or not so they can stay here forever. He settles for a compromise by tossing the last driftwood branches in the slowly dancing flames and hoping the fire consumes them soon.

“You look like soft gold,” he says to Teuvo. Teuvo’s breath hitches because he can’t remember when anybody has talked to him like that.

“And I thought nothing good would ever come out of falling for a straight guy,” Teuvo mutters more to himself than to be actually heard.

“Who’s saying I’m straight?” Sebastian replies and Teuvo is close to retort  _who’s saying I’m falling for you_  because they’re still mostly used to chirping at each other, it’s a reflex he needs to fight.

“You’ve had girlfriends as long as I have known you,” he points out.

“Oh yeah, that,” Sebastian agrees.

His nonchalance makes Teuvo laugh, again. He needs to hug that quirky fun boy, now.

“Come here,” he says and Sebastian does it easily, steps around the fire with the agility of a cat, lowers himself to his knees between the fire and Teuvo, guides Teuvo’ shoulder and hip softly but effectively to the ground and ends up straddled over him on his hands and knees.

Sebastian’s hair hangs down framing his little angular face, his heart-shaped lips are pink and words slip out between them like drops of velvety honey.

“Soft gold,” he whispers. “Peaches and cream.”

His lips are heart-shaped and pink and when they press down for a kiss, they’re moist and soft but demanding, he bites into Teuvo’s bottom lip and licks his mouth open with his tongue, and he sits down on Teuvo’s hips hard like he means business and yes, maybe Teuvo could get used to this.

Neither of them feels the nippy chill of the midsummer night any more but the layers of clothing it requires them to wear are definitely getting in the way. Teuvo is the first to break the kiss; he gently nudges Sebastian’s chin and turns his head slightly to the side to use his lips for talking.

“Inside?” he breathes.

Sebastian collects himself from the top of Teuvo and rolls down on the sand, propping himself up with one arm, leaving Teuvo between himself and the fire.

“We need to wait a moment,” he says quietly, lips next to the short hair on the nape of Teuvo’s neck. “We can’t leave the fire.”

“Are you sure? Can’t you just put it out? Like kick sand to bury it? Besides, there’s nothing where it would spread.” Teuvo turns pleadingly to Sebastian who chuckles at him.

“You’re sweet. Sit up,” Sebastian says. Teuvo does, and Sebastian inches close behind him, pressing his chest to his back, coaxing his legs around him. He digs a phone out of the pocket of his jacket and holds it out on stretched arm before them, pressing his chin over Teuvo’s shoulder, cheek to his cheek. He frames the first selfie wide enough to show a bit of the beach and the sky behind them, the second one tighter.

“You’re not announcing a change in your relationship status with those, are you? I’m not sure if I’m quite ready for that,” Teuvo teases.

Sebastian snorts and pecks his cheek. “These are for my own use. I want to look at them when I’m old and remember this,” he says.

 

The house is dark and quiet when they get back to the yard. Sebastian realizes the doors are locked and he has the only key.

He glances at the time: it’s a little past four which means that bars have just been closed. If the other guys are not headed elsewhere, they’re bound to be back soon.

He leaves the front door unlocked, guides Teuvo to the bedroom and takes care to close the door.

The warm layers of clothes get scattered on the floor unceremoniously like falling leaves because they’re not the focal point here.

They keep kissing hungrily, take the few easy steps towards the unmade bed in the middle of the room, collapse there as soon as their legs hit the edge of the mattress, slither and roll their way to the middle.

It’s so new but yet it’s like they’ve been doing this forever.

Teuvo ends up on top, kissing Sebastian’s mouth, leaning to his elbows both sides of Sebastian’s head, loving the way Sebastian’s hands slide tight and hot down his sides, the needy little whimpers he moans around his tongue, into his mouth. He digs his fingers in Sebastian’s hair spread on the sheets, feels Sebastian arch his neck to push his scalp to the touch and clenches his fist around a handful of slippery brown hair. Sebastian moans louder and Teuvo breaks the kiss to hear it because damn, those noises are music to his ears.

Sebastian’s neck looks slender and exposed and he lets out another aroused whimper when Teuvo bites down into the pale skin, attacks it with rough sucking kisses, starts below one ear, moves under the chin to the other side, down towards he collarbone. He’s not sorry for getting a bit possessive here, the boy has been teasing him enough to have it coming, if this is a bit of marking Sebastian as his so be it.

He keeps his hand in Sebastian’s hair, caresses his cheek with the other one, pushes his thumb in the loud gasping and moaning mouth, feels the pretty lips close around it and the warm wetness sucking it. The tight athletic body squirms under him, hard cock rutting to his stomach as he gnaws tenderly on the collarbone he’s surely already sucked raw and oversensitive and it’s all so fucking  _good_  and right.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he whispers coarsely between kisses, “I’ll do you good.”

He lets go of Sebastian’s hair and lets his hand find its way down, wraps his fingers around the base of the cock, jerks the shaft with gentle squeezes, lifts his head to watch the reaction on Sebastian’s face. Sebastian sucks his thumb harder whenever Teuvo gives his cock a squeeze and yes, it’s so pleasing to get their rhythms in sync.

 

The front door opens; they both register the echoing distant click, and the footsteps and the murmur of drunken talking that spread to the hallway after it.

Teuvo lifts his finger in front of his lips. “We gotta be quiet,” he whispers.

Sebastian licks his lips and nods, a mischievous, adventurous flash in his eyes, like he enjoys sharing a secret. “Just don’t stop,” he whispers back.

Teuvo rolls to his side on the sheet and Sebastian follows him, turning to his side to face Teuvo. Teuvo draws the covers over the two of them, like hiding them from the world, cocooning in their own private universe, away from the chatter and rumble going on outside the bedroom door.

The duvet is thin enough to let a little light through. Teuvo sees Sebastian’s eyes fixated in his when he wiggles as close as he gets and inches his upper leg over Teuvo’s knee. Sebastian’s hand touches his cheek, follows the outline of his body under the duvet, over the curve of his shoulder, the upper arm to the elbow; there he makes the downhill trip to his waistline, all the way to his hip, the outer thigh; his gentle trip continues to the front until the palm reaches his cock and the hand curls slowly and steadily around it.

Sebastian leans in and kisses him, softly and languidly, but there’s a passion to it, in the rhythm and determination of his lips and tongue, the way their movement coordinates with his hand on Teuvo’s cock, and Teuvo loses his own coordination, merely hanging on to Sebastian’s cock like a lifeline.

Sebastian tilts his chin down so their lips part, keeping their foreheads pressed together. “I want you so fucking much,” he whispers, breath heavy and labored, “Do you want to do it? To fuck me? Or my…. me… inside you?”

Teuvo has to catch his breath to answer because the words alone are sending his brain into the orbit.

“Do you have anything? …I mean, lube? condoms?”

Of course Sebastian doesn’t. “No,” he sighs, “I didn’t bring anything. I wasn’t… expecting anything to happen.”

Somehow Teuvo is relieved to hear that. It most likely means Sebastian wasn’t planning to hook up any random girl, either.

“You don’t have any, either?” Sebastian asks although he already knows the answer, and groans when Teuvo says he doesn’t. “I could look if there’s some in the – “ he starts but realizes he doesn’t want to check Jussi’s nightstand drawers, it would be too much information of his generous hockey uncle’s, let alone his wife’s, sex life.

He starts jerking Teuvo’s cock again. “I think I saw baby oil in the bathroom,” he says and looks pleadingly in Teuvo’s eyes.

 _Baby oil_. Teuvo can’t shake the mental image of the iconic clean smell and gliding slippery hands down the lean muscles on Sebastian’s back, kneading his round buttcheeks shiny and slick and spreading them apart with oily thumbs. He stifles a moan that tries to escape his mouth aloud.

“Fuck, Sepe. Baby,” he gasps at the thought and he’s quite sure he’s starting to leak on Sebastian’s hand. “I don’t wanna do here it the first time, with people around. Or I want to, but I… I don’t want to hold back and I don’t want you to hold back  _anything_ , I heard you get so loud earlier and it was so fucking hot, you don’t know,” he pants.

Sebastian keeps his hand moving on Teuvo’s cock and looks at him lips parted and a dark veil of want in his gaze. “I gotta, you know,” he whispers in a hitched voice, “I need  to come.”

Teuvo gives him a kiss so firm it’s like a wordless answer. “Who the fuck says you won’t,” he whispers back. “I told I’ll do you good, Sepe, I will.” He brushes his palm in a slow teasing stroke along Sebastian’s cock and grabs his ass in a firm grip with another one, pleased with the rocking motion Sebastian’s hips start to make to meet both touches.

He lets his fingers play with Sebastian’s ass a bit more boldly and testing the waters gives good signals, the boy is into it.

“Do you think you could find the oil, Sepe?” he asks and feels Sebastian nod a yes, his face brushing to the meeting point of Teuvo’s neck and chest, hair tickling the side of his neck. “Get it here, please.”

Sebastian rolls out of the bed and comes back from the bathroom with the flat plastic bottle. Teuvo takes it from his hand and extends his other hand to rub Sebastian’s shoulder when he sits down on the bed.

“Lay down, baby,” Teuvo says and guides Sebastian on his stomach on the sheets. He pours oil on his hand, spreads it to both rubbing his palms together and does exactly what he wanted, slides the hands down both sides of Sebastian’s spine. When he reaches his perky ass he lets his fingers sink in the flesh, drinking up the pleased moan he hears. He rubs the buttocks, pushes his hands under Sebastian and yanks his hips upwards. Sebastian is pliant under his hands, arches his back to present his ass either because he wants to or because he thinks it’s expected; the reason doesn’t matter, the result is right.

 

It’s very right for Sebastian, too. His ex had watched enough  _Girls_  to try if Sebastian would like to have her finger in his ass in bed and Sebastian did, but this is… so. much.  _more_. The oil-slick thumbs spreading his ass, warm breath on his skin, lips and teeth nibbling his buttocks, a  _real_ fucking warm wet tongue licking closer to the middle. Lips pressing around his hole, kissing it like it was a mouth, or a melting ice cream cone tempting the tongue to press down.

There’s nothing he’s able to do, just receive, feel; he has enough sense to bite into his pillow that’s slowly getting grossly wet from his spit because he knows in the back of his head that he can’t attract anyone’s attention by voicing out his pleasure. If somebody walked in and stopped this insanely good thing he would die right there, hanging in a void where the boundaries of his body are starting to dissolve into a blinding bliss.

There’s a slippery finger continuing what the tongue started, reaching deeper in while the lips and teeth are giving kisses to his buttock, to the crease where it meets his thigh. A soft whisper  _“turn around, love”_ and Sebastian turns to his back, the finger easing out but not all the way, just to give him space to turn. He curls his knees up and the finger pushes in deep again, the tongue sweeps his cock from root to tip and he’s taken in a wet hot mouth. Teuvo searches with his finger inside him and – oh so suddenly –  crooks it and strokes with the fingertip  _right there,_ and licks the slit on the head of his cock inside his mouth at the same time, and Sebastian is sure he is either going to faint or burst to tears.

He’s never been in anybody’s mouth so deep, the suction is so good and he’s there, in the liquid, all-encompassing sea of pleasure. The release sends him too far out of his mind to feel embarrassed of how he bursts out without warning, but he’s taken care of so good, Teuvo’s beautiful mouth works him through it, swallows around his cock while the finger is slowly and gently eased out.

As soon as Sebastian comes to his senses he grabs Teuvo, pulling him close, drapes himself around his neck and shoulders, hangs from him like a baby koala, breathless and trembling, letting out muted noises, something between helpless whimpers and mindless giggles.

Sebastian’s eyelids are starting to feel heavy but he doesn’t want to fall asleep, not yet. He rolls over to his side and Teuvo does the same.

Sebastian fumbles around behind his back and finds the baby oil bottle in his hand. He pours it on his palm a bit more than necessary but Teuvo is not complaining, not when he gets the hand curled around his hard, neglected cock and hears Sebastian whisper sweet dirty praises in his ear, breath moist and hot on his neck and earlobe.

 

~¤~

 

Sunday morning creeps in through the thin curtains pale as a ghost. Sebastian wakes up on his belly, arm curled around a pillow, duvet wrapped snugly around his back. Teuvo is full asleep next to him, lips closed, breathing peacefully through his nose.

Sebastian sneaks his hand out from the shelter of the duvet and grazes the edge of Teuvo’s lip with his index finger. Teuvo wrinkles his nose and lips as if to chase away a fly.

“Good morning,” Sebastian whispers.

Teuvo cracks an eye open and smiles a lazy smile. “Morning. Go to sleep.”

He turns to his other side and pulls a pillow over his ear.

Sebastian is not having it. He tears the pillow out from under Teuvo’s hand, hits him with it and tosses it to the floor. He goes on to grab the edge of Teuvo’s covers and starts pulling the duvet to the side. Teuvo turns to his back and defends his shield from the cruel morning air but Sebastian wins with a surprise tug.

“You nasty monster! It’s early. I’ll tickle you to death,” Teuvo says and extends his hands towards Sebastian.

“Not if I tickle you first”, Sebastian answers and straddles him shamelessly, going straight for the armpits with no mercy.

 

Jesse hears laughter from the master bedroom and if there’s a joke going on he never wants to miss out.

He opens the door and yes, he knows he should excuse himself and close it right now but he just freezes.

There’s Teuvo, yes, and Sebastian, and he knew they shared Jussi’s and his wife’s room, but that it would mean this. They’re naked, as in not wearing a stitch, on top of each other, Sebastian bowing down to kiss Teuvo’s lips, and despite the working air conditioning in Jussi’s modern holiday house the room smells,  _reeks_ , of sex.

He doesn’t know anymore what he was expecting but not this. And it makes him feel so  _stupid_  and he hates it.

 _“Ei saatana!_ ” comes from the bottom of his heart when he slams the door behind him.

 

Sebastian hears the heavy footsteps distancing outside the door.

He turns to Teuvo. “I gotta go talk to him,” he says, and Teuvo nods an okay.

“I guess you’d better,” he agrees.

Sebastian finds boxer shorts and yesterday’s t-shirt from the floor and decides they’re enough. Jesse is in the kitchen, pacing around, like he doesn’t know what he was set to do before he walked in on them.

“Hey, bro,” Sebastian starts warily. Jesse stops on his feet, shifts his weight from one foot to another. He focuses his eyes on Sebastian’s neck, steps closer and pokes the darkest and largest hickey so hard it hurts, shaking his head.

“You could have told me,” he says. His voice sounds riled up, but more than that, it sounds pleading, disappointed, almost desperate. “You didn’t have to make me feel like an idiot.” He glares at Sebastian.

“Don’t. If you think that way you’re wrong. Nobody knows. This… this is a new thing,” Sebastian says, gesturing vaguely towards the closed bedroom door.

“Really?” Jesse’s brows shoot upwards enough to draw wrinkles on his forehead. “Didn’t really look that way. You looked comfortable enough to go way back.”

Sebastian squirms. He doesn’t owe Pulju an explanation but his friend looks hurt and it’s hard for him to take. “Yeah,” he admits finally, “We’ve fooled around during the season a couple of times. But we haven’t been together for real – “ his lips start to curl into an unhindered smile – “Before.”

Jesse’s eyes catch the smile and he can’t help mirroring it. Normally he would double it but now the tall boy tries to steel himself, narrows his eyes and casts a pointed downward look at his friend.

“So, what is it you’re doing now?” he asks. “You’re fucking?”

As soon as Jesse asks the question, he grimaces uncomfortably. “I mean no, don’t tell me any details,” he hurries to add, “It’s not necessary.”

Sebastian slaps his forearm. “I wouldn’t tell you about my sex life if you begged,” he says. He closes his lips and gnaws the inside of his mouth with a corner of his tooth. Then he looks at Pulju. “But we’re not that far yet,” he confesses.

“Why not?” Jesse sounds surprised and genuinely concerned.

“Fuck you, I told you it’s none of your business,” Sebastian replies. His cheeks are starting to warm up a bit, he surely didn’t want to direct the discussion this way.

Pulju shakes his giant head. “It can’t be healthy, keeping it all in.”

“I said stop!” Sebastian retorts.

Jesse is evidently pleased with Sebastian’s embarrassment. He’s already relaxed to his casually moving self, sways on his feet, chuckles at his own thoughts, casting amused looks at his shorter friend as he turns to raid the fridge for early breakfast.

“What are you still doing here with me?” he asks over his shoulder. “Go on, you have a boyfriend waiting for you there.”

Sebastian smiles at him. “Thanks bro. But one thing… could you not talk about this all around?” he pleads. “It’s… you know, we haven’t really figured anything about how to deal with this yet. With other people, and,” he shakes his head like a new worry has just occurred to him – “publicly. Or even with the team.”

Jesse nods. “So, it’s that serious anyway? That you’re already thinking about all those things.”

Sebastian shrugs his shoulders. “I just wanted to say it.”

Jesse breaks into his face-splitting giant smile. “No problem,” he says.

 

“He’s cool now,” Sebastian says to Teuvo as he slouches down on the bed by his side. They lie on their bellies side by side, both leaning to pillows scrunched under their chest and chin, hands buried underneath. Realizing how alike their position is makes Sebastian chuckle. He leans his cheek to the pillow to look Teuvo in the eye and Teukka mirrors him.

How can anyone have such a soft, dreamy gaze, Sebastian wonders for a moment. Teuvo’s eyes match exactly this whole moment around them: a soft and warm spot in the middle of the coldest summer Sebastian can remember and he’s happy to have found it.

“Why are you smiling?” Teuvo whispers, barely moving his lips.

Sebastian didn’t even know he was smiling. He doesn’t say a word to answer, just keeps smiling, now super aware that he smiles and that the smile is merely a reflection of another one facing him. He’s not willing to bring any words to this quiet bliss; he cherishes the silence that allows him to hear every little sound in the room: how Teuvo breathes, how the sheets rustle ever so slightly with the tiniest shift of his position.

 

The world outside the bedroom is not silent. Not even the house.

“Morning Hine!” they hear Pulju hollering enthusiastically, and Hine answering on a bit more crumbled hungover voice. There’s some quiet chatter, then footsteps pass their bedroom door.

“Did you know they haven’t even fucked yet?” are the last words Sebastian hears before the steps go too far to make out the words any more.

So much for being subtle, he thinks, and lets out a muted laughter into the pillow. It’s okay, though. He trusts his guys.

Especially the one lying next to him. Nothing stops him from scooting closer to Teuvo and pressing a kiss on his soft lips.

 

~¤~

 

When they eventually get too hungry to stay in bed any longer, the others are still at the table. Teuvo takes his time in the shower (Sebastian sends a mental thank you to Jussi for having the sensibility to have an en suite bathroom built for the master bedroom of his holiday home) which means Sebastian faces the crowd alone.

Sebastian chooses one of Jussi’s Moomin mugs (is there a law that requires families to collect those, Sebastian wonders for a moment) and pours himself coffee.

Pulju grins mischievously at him when he approaches the table and starts singing a pop song about how friends don’t make each other hickeys. Sebastian gives him the finger and concentrates on his coffee.

When Teuvo emerges from the bedroom and comes with his coffee mug, Pulju repeats his unfunny concert. Sebastian repeats giving him the finger. Because Teuvo stands so conveniently behind Sebastian’s chair, Sebastian pulls his face down for the flthiest open-mouth kiss he can master from that angle, keeping his middle finger up to Pulju’s direction.

Sebastian is not going to take shit from anyone for this and he might as well rehearse his attitude with Jesse Puljujärvi.

 

~¤~

 

But boy, does Jesse test him. He comes along when Sebastian drives with Teukka to the little grocery store of a nearby gas station. Sebastian wants to be a good guest and replace everything from flour and sugar to toilet paper and baby oil that may have been consumed over the weekend.

Jesse spots some colourful products on the bottom shelf under razors and band-aids and picks them up. He tosses a tube of lube and a packet of condoms on the bottom of Sebastian’s shopping cart.

Sebastian darts an annoyed glare at him.

“The wrong kind?” Jesse asks, eyebrows high up on his forehead, and strides to get a different color packet and tosses it in with the other ones. “Safe sex is important,” he informs pointedly.

At the same time Teuvo comes back from the direction of a display freezer he’s been glancing through. He holds a dark red raspberry popsicle up in front of Sebastian’s face and places it in the shopping cart.

“I want to see how your lips look after you’ve sucked it,” he says in a low voice.

Sebastian sighs and tries to hold back his smile.

Why do the best people in his life have to be the absolute  _worst?_

~¤~

Sheets in the hamper, check. Sauna and garage doors locked, check. Text to the cleaning firm confirming that the house will be empty by Monday morning, check.

Using every possible second left to cuddle because damn, it’s going to be a long week but neither of them is willing to break their summer training schedule, check.

“It’s okay, we can leave later. I don’t mind driving in the night, the traffic is lighter,” Hine offers generously and Teuvo thanks him with a melancholic smile.

 

Roope doesn’t tease the older player during the drive home, either.

If Teuvo needs to sit long stretches of highway in silence, lean his forehead to the cool side window and look longingly at the roadside bushes, he can do it. And if a buzz of a text message is the only thing that wakes him up from his daydreaming and makes him smile, it’s perfectly normal.

Teuvo lifts his smiling face from the photo on his phone screen and turns to the driver.

“Did you know that Sepe is really good at making a fire? If I ever get lost in the woods, I hope it’s with him.”

 

 


	5. After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _My love for you will still be strong_  
>  _After the boys of summer have gone._  
> 
> \- Don Henley, The Boys of Summer

 

What a sight to wake up to.

Teuvo sleeps on his stomach, one knee bent a bit to the side. The apartment is hot like it tends to be even on cold summer mornings because the windows are on the sunrise side but boy, that doesn’t bother Sebastian right now. It’s only for the better that Teuvo has kicked his covers off in his sleep, the tangled sheets are beautifully draped around his thighs, emphasizing the curve of his ass.

Sebastian has slept surprisingly restlessly, considering how boneless and deeply satisfied he has felt when he has fallen asleep. It’s the heat, probably, combined with the fact that he’s too lazy to get up for a glass of water, or then his brain just wants him to be awake to appreciate the fact that he’s not alone in his apartment.

 

He decided to get a place on his own after the Midsummer weekend, move out of his parents’ house again, the way he did the first time, everything still ahead of him. Big steps, playing professionally with men, quitting high school on the verge of graduation for hockey, moving in with a girl as if to play house.

It worked until it wasn’t fair for either of them.

Now he has different reasons.

Or one reason, who is cute and sexy as hell even sound asleep.

 

“Why do you want to move out?” his little sister had asked, her voice fragile, a bit hurt. They were in Sebastian’s room after he had told the family about his decision, the next day after coming home from Kalajoki; she ran her fingers through Sebastian’s hair as Sebastian rested his head on her lap.

“I need privacy,” Sebastian said and turned his face up to flash a mischievous smile at her. “I’m in love.”

Her face lit up. “Wow,” she sighed from the bottom of her young heart. “You’ve met someone. Was it this weekend? I mean, that’s pretty fast.”

Sebastian shook his head, hair rustling against the fabric of her flouncy cotton dress, and dug his phone out of his pocket. He hesitated a little before starting to scroll through the photo gallery but eventually clicked one picture open, the dimly lit selfie by the bonfire.

“It’s not fast. I’ve wasted months,” he said, almost whispering because of the sudden wave of emotions that washed through him, making him feel simultaneously overwhelmingly proud and happy but also very, very exposed, vulnerable; young and new and shy.

His sister slapped her hand over her mouth to muffle an exhilarated scream and curled down to squeeze her big brother’s head in an almost smothering hug.

 

The apartment is furnished, its owner works abroad for the summer and comes back in the beginning of the semester of the university. It’s exactly as long as Sebastian needs the place before returning to North Carolina. He doesn’t worry about the situation beyond that. It will work out.

 _They_  will make it work.

How overwhelming is it to be able to think about that?

 

But in the meantime there are almost two months of summer left and that will mean long weeks apart, sometimes less, sometimes more, depending on the training schedule or different summer events they’ve promised to attend. He will definitely need some good reminders of these moments for those lonely nights, and since Teuvo shows no signs of waking up, Sebastian is going to make the most of the morning light. He picks up his phone from the nightstand and sweeps it alive to take a photo of the sleeping beauty.

Sebastian is about to tap the camera icon when he notices a familiar name on a Twitter notification and clicks it instead.  He reads the news and his face goes blank.

 

Florida Panthers buy Jussi’s contract out.

This is how the NHL works, Sebastian knows it. If the teams cemented their rosters, wouldn’t evolve, change the pieces of the puzzle and rearrange them, he would never have been drafted himself.

He gets it in a new level, the importance of Jussi’s houses in Finland to him. The need to secure himself, his family, a steady place to call home, somewhere to come back home to.

On the other hand, he feels weirdly guilty. Whenever he’s been talking to the older player over the past couple of years, it’s always been about him: how Sebastian is doing, how he is taking the steps ahead, what he accomplishes; what are his fears and insecurities and how he could get over them. He’s grateful for it and in a way it makes sense in a relationship where the one with the longer track record is the natural mentor (come to think of it, maybe it’s in Jussi’s nature to be the natural mentor), the ears and the shoulder for the one whose life is a constantly evolving series of firsts.

 

Sebastian sits up, finds Jussi’s name on his contacts list and calls him. Jussi’s phone is busy and Sebastian hangs up instead of staying in the queue.

Teuvo shifts on the bed and slowly cracks his eyes open, rubbing them with one hand. He props himself up with his elbows and glances at Sebastian’s phone that he’s resting idly on his bare thigh.

“What is it, Sepe?” he asks.

Sebastian shows him the short news tweet. “It’s been announced last night. I only just noticed it and tried to call Jussi, to hear how he’s taking it.”

Teuvo crawls closer, close enough to rest his hands and chin on Sebastian’s knee like it was a pillow. “Didn’t he answer?” he asks.

The phone buzzes at that exact moment. Jussi calls back, the polite guy that he is. “It was busy. He’s calling back now,” Sebastian says quickly to Teuvo before he answers. Teuvo nods and backs away to his own pillow, keeping an attentive eye and ear on Sebastian.

“I wanted to call when I heard the news. It sucks, man,” Sebastian says to the phone straight after quick greetings.

Jussi sounds calm. “You know how it is. It’s about the team and the bigger picture. Changes had to be made,” he says.

“Yeah, but the way…” Sebastian trails off helplessly. “Is there… anything I could do?” He understands he’s completely ridiculous saying something like that, he’s just a kid, a newcomer with no connections anywhere and he’s got nothing to back up his offer for help.

“Nah”, Jussi declines, “I’ve got some things going on already, I’ll discuss with my agent as soon as you young guns stop blocking my phone. You seem more concerned about my situation than I have the sensibility to be,” he chuckles.

“Oh.”

“No, I mean, I was just talking to Sasha when you tried to call. He sounded upset but I told him he’s been doing great and he’ll keep doing great,” Jussi explains.

“Maybe he wasn’t upset for himself but for you,” Sebastian points out.

Jussi either acknowledges or denies Sebastian’s point with an ambiguous huff. “It’s nice of you to care,” he says eventually.

“I do. We do,” Sebastian says, not really sure if he is in the position to talk in behalf of other young NHLers such as Alexander Barkov but he does anyway.

Jussi stays silent for a moment. “Thanks for calling, anyway. I was glad to hear that your Midsummer went well. The house was intact so I was right to trust you with it.”

“Yeah, it was great.” Sebastian takes a long warm look at Teuvo by his side. “The best Midsummer I’ve ever had.”

“Well that’s nice to hear. Look, if I have to travel to States later this summer would you like to housesit again? I mean, the weather should be improving and you could hit the beach for real. You know there is a golf course, too, and I could get you some ice time on the rink if you’d like stay for longer.”

Sebastian is not sure. He likes to stick with his training routines, the places and the people, but he could check with his trainer if he might take some days off when Jussi’s house is free. Because yes, it’s a tempting thought to have the big house just for the two of them and… Sebastian realizes he’s drifting into daydreaming, and that he’s already including Teuvo in his plans without even asking him first.

“Thanks, it’s a nice offer. I’ll keep that in mind,” he says. “Great to hear you’re not that anxious. I’m still pissed off at them for you, though.”

“That’s okay,” Jussi laughs. “But don’t you worry about me. Have a nice weekend. You’re not by any chance training today, are you?”

“No, why are you asking?”

“No reason really. I’m in Oulu now and I thought I’d go to the gym for some extra workout to let off some steam and wondered if you would be going, too.”

Sebastian grimaces silently. He was just offering help but this weekend he is very  _very_  busy elsewhere. Right here, in fact.

“No, sorry, I –“ what is he going to say? Am not feeling too well? Need to rest?

Teuvo shuffles back closer, he seems to be waiting for the call to be over soon, and as if to prove it, he opens his mouth and gently bites Sebastian’s knee with his big front teeth. Sebastian tries to glare warningly at him but can’t help a smile creeping up on his lips. “I have company,” he blurts out on the phone, distracted by the bite, apparently, because he wasn’t going to say that.

“O-kay,” Jussi replies slowly. “Well, then, have a  _very_  nice weekend.”

There may be an extra dose of saccharine to the tone of his voice, but Sebastian forgets it as soon as he hangs up.

Sebastian still hasn’t taken the picture but he lets the phone slide out of his hand because why bother with a photo when there’s a chance to get some of the real thing.

 

Saturday morning goes on slow and steamy. The weekend is indeed continuing as  _very_  nice.

So far Sebastian has learned that he likes a lot of things they’re trying out together and he likes them quite a lot.

He likes being fucked. He likes it the first time, almost tentatively slow and gentle and caring, accompanied with soft kisses all over his sweaty, reddened face, and he loves it rough and vigorous, a hand in his hair pushing the side of his face down on the bed, his ass pulled high up in an almost uncomfortably steep angle. He comes hard, growling and shouting. Pants and giggles for what seems like minutes, floating in his post-coital high.

 

He’s very much into kissing; Teuvo’s soft bottom lip fascinates him, it’s so good for nibbling with the edges of his own lips, and it gets so beautifully puffy when Sebastian sucks it in his mouth and releases it slowly, scraping it with his teeth.

Teuvo could live days on the look in Sebastian’s eyes when he breaks from a kiss like that: Sebastian’s gaze lingers on his mouth, moves up to his eyes and descends back to the lips, filled with awe and wonder, like asking  _did I really do that_? And Teuvo could hug him forever and say between exhilarated giggles that yes, you did that.

But why bother, because leaning in for the next kiss is a so much better option.

 

Teuvo should know it from before, but it strikes him as a surprise, how casually tactile Sebastian is.

It’s evident from the moment Sebastian comes to meet him at the train station; he stands there on the platform, hands in his pockets. When Teuvo steps out of his train, Sebastian approaches, grabs the shoulder strap of his weekender bag and slings it over his far shoulder. In the same fluid movement he throws his arm around the back of Teuvo’s neck, palms shortly the hair on the side of his head and starts guiding him to the street around the old wooden station building like that, arm across his shoulder, hand hanging over his collarbone.

It’s another thing to experience and witness it as a friend, but totally different now that every touch has a weight behind it, a burning promise only the two of them know about.

That he’s not that ready for the whole world to know about.

Not that they step that much outside Sebastian’s apartment, he could count the times with the fingers of one hand: The short walk home from the station, stopping at a pizza place on the way; lunch and groceries on Saturday; a short morning run on the Sunday morning, and yes, they think about a brunch but end up buying their sandwiches and juices to go because the café is really crowded.

Still Teuvo feels that it’s so evident in even those moments, the way he gets an indisputable boyfriend treatment from Sepe. Teuvo feels the brown eyes studying his face, from lips to eyes and back, like Sebastian was mentally preparing for a kiss. If they sit side by side, like they did waiting for their takeout pizzas to bake, Sepe’s arm rests on the back of his chair, so lightly and casually it looks like he’s just spread it to the side for comfort, like he doesn’t have to think about it. If they’re across each other on the table, Sebastian pushes his lean legs straight under the table to lace his feet with Teuvo’s.

He doesn’t pull chairs, that’s where Teuvo would draw the line, but he holds doors open, insists on paying for everything.

“You’re the guest,” he says, and there’s an intimacy in the way he lowers his voice, and directs his words straight at him, an easy smile on his whole face.

Maybe it’s an Oulu thing. This is as much the home turf to Sebastian as it gets. He has a kind of fame that is not a burden but a shield; he has, despite his young age, earned a reputation that makes him untouchable in this town, able to stare down anyone if needed.

 

~¤~

 

Sebastian frees his phone from the flight mode as soon as he steps out of the small plane to get to the domestic flights terminal in the Helsinki airport.

He gasps for air, grins and pumps his fist in the air when he spots a familiar name next to an orange Twitter icon square.

[@EdmontonOilers](https://twitter.com/EdmontonOilers)

_The_   _#Oilers_ _have signed Jussi Jokinen to a one-year contract._

 

He’d like to know how long Jussi has known but stifles his urge to call him. He has his priorities: the last thing he wants to do to Teuvo, who’s come for him to the airport, is to walk in talking to somebody else.

 

Teuvo realizes that Sepe’s thing is not an Oulu thing.

Teuvo waits for him in the arrivals lobby, one hand in his pocket, lifts the other one to a quick wave. “Jusa goes to the Oilers,” Teuvo announces as a greeting when Sepe comes close enough to hear.

Sepe pulls him in a hug, nuzzles the side of his neck quickly with his nose. “I’ve missed you too, silly,” he murmurs into Teuvo’s ear, close enough for the low voice to feel as a vibration on his skin.

 

Sebastian discovers that he loves fucking at least as much as being fucked, not that it really surprises him. He discovers that his lovely guy doesn’t oppose to taking orders during sex and it’s great because he does enjoy a chance to get a bit bossy.

“Spread,” he grunts as he presses the palms of Teuvo’s hands to the kitchen countertop with his, kicking the insides of Teuvo's feet to inch them apart, slides his fingers inside him standing up, then his cock and fuck yes, it’s incredibly hot to hear his own flesh spanking that pretty ass.

“I want to take the condom off. Can I?” he growls into Teuvo’s ear when he’s getting close. Teuvo, unable to deny him anything at this moment, pants his consent in a heavy series of breaths, and Sebastian pulls out to watch mesmerized how his white come sprays in ropes over the skin, pooling viscously in the dip of the arching spine.

 

~¤~

 

The summer goes on, getting occasionally warmer for a day or two but mostly not.

Jesse’s grin is close to splitting his face in two when Sebastian meets him for a morning skate on Monday, both in their borrowed black  _Kärpät_ practice jerseys.

“You heard the news?” Sebastian asks while his blades make the first cuts of the morning on the smooth white surface of his former home ice, still the best in the world to him.

Jesse skates past Sepe, makes a sudden turn and bumps into him with his body, graciously sparing the full force; he’s not trying to hurt his friend, just show his exhilaration. “Fuck yeah!” he exclaims. “Great to get another northern guy up there.”

 

Weekends are too precious to waste resting. Sebastian drives to Kuopio for two hotel nights, before and after Kimmo Timonen’s charity golf competition Teuvo attends; they play at Jesse’s charity game in Tornio and party the night away with the guys until it’s better to continue partying in the privacy of their room.

 

The long weeks are endured with the aid of fresh hot memories and modern technology.

“I’m wearing your lace thong from last weekend,” Teuvo’s voice is almost in sync with his lips on the computer screen.

Sebastian could die from hearing the words alone but the hot motherfucker he’s dating switches from the front-facing camera of his iPad to the other one and  _shows_  him.

“It’s so gross and dirty”, he hears the shameless words as he looks mesmerized at the cock sticking out from the side of the lace front scrunched to the side, fair-skinned fingers delicately on the shaft like it was a flute. “The front was stiff with your jizz and the back is a mess. It’s dried lube and my cum. I remember how it leaked out of your hole.”

Sebastian gets so breathy he can barely speak. “Fuck, Teukka,” he sighs. “I miss you so much.”

“How much do you miss me babe?”

 _Ohh._ Sebastian can get hardly anything but a groaning sigh out of his mouth. He adjusts his position, places his laptop on his pillow and turns to his stomach, his erection held achingly captive between his body and the bed.

“I can’t stop thinking of it. How you let me fuck your mouth and come all over your face. You blinked drops off your eyelashes and licked your lips,” he tells in a soft, husky voice, grinding the mattress because how could he not. His breath feels ponderous because it’s almost too much to remember the sex so vividly and at the same time look at the skype window on the screen, see how his words make Teuvo curl his fingers tighter around his cock and slowly start jerking off.

Sebastian continues. “I’ve been meaning to save it for the weekend but shit, you were so hot, I get off thinking about you almost daily,” he confesses.

“Show me, Sebastian. Let me see it. baby.”

“You wanna watch me?”

“Oh yeah, Sepe, I want… oh fuck, I want to see you.”

And Sebastian adjusts his position again, rises on his knees to hit the camera angle right, because at the moment hesitation or shame would be time wasted.

 

“Will you come over next weekend?” he asks afterwards, messy and soft and too lazy to get up to have his face fully on camera again. “Antti Tuisku is in Qstock. I want to see him with you.”

Teuvo chuckles. “That’s the gayest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

Sebastian clicks his tongue disapprovingly and shakes his head. “You don’t listen to me enough in bed if it is.”

“Sorry babe. I’ll keep my ears open better next time.”

“You’d better. Or I’ll have to spank you.”

“Promise?”

 

~¤~

 

Teuvo has stepped up a gear in his training and the first hard week has left him a bit drained, but he agrees to go to the festival straight from his flight on the Friday night.

When he thinks about it later, there’s a lot of things he could have handled better.

For starters, he shouldn’t be so paranoid and so prejudiced. The Danko Jones and Marilyn Manson fans in combat boots and biker leather jackets probably don’t look at him or them condemningly but maybe because they’re also hockey fans and recognize them.

And if the cutest guy he knows takes his hand he should squeeze it back as warmly and lovingly as possible, not fabricate an attempt at some subtle squirming, twisting and turning motions to get free, because the attempt is doomed to fail and end up awkward and obvious.

Sebastian’s face goes from perplexed to hurt. He glares at him sidelong and buries his hands as deep in his pockets as they go, biting his gum between his front teeth in chagrin.

 

Sebastian’s expression eases up during the night but he keeps his hands to himself all the way back to his apartment.

“I’m sorry,”, Teuvo says.

“What for?” Sebastian asks, toeing off his shoes, hanging his jacket up. He smells a little of the beers he’s had but Teuvo thinks he hasn’t been drinking heavily enough to be that clueless.

“I didn’t mean to reject you. I just get – I get sometimes self-conscious in public places.”

“You never said anything earlier,” Sebastian says.

Teuvo shrugs, what can he say? He  _likes_  Sebastian touching him and hasn’t wanted to ask him to stop.

“I know. It’s just… Sometimes I can’t tell if you know how the world works, Sepe.”

“Why would you think that?” Sebastian asks, straightens his back and looks him in the eye. “I live in the world, right? I’m a part of the world. And I think I work.”

Teuvo lets his shoulders slouch down. He can’t argue that but he’s not too sure what to think about it, either.

He’s dating either a blissfully clueless Forrest Gump or a guy who is ready to shape the world around him by merely existing in it.

 

~¤~

 

Jussi invites them for a barbecue lunch in his Oulu home before the concerts start on Saturday. Sebastian kicks a ball about with the kids on the backyard lawn. Salla finds them little plastic goals from a garden shed and Teuvo helps put them up on the lawn and joins the game.

It’s fun to run around with the little ones until the boy trips and hits his knee.

“It’s ble-eeding!” he sobs and Sebastian squats down in front of him, brushing pieces of grass gently away from the small knee. “It’s just a scratch, see!” He wipes it with the hem of his loose, sleeveless t-shirt. “Let’s take you inside, we’ll clean it up. Mom and dad have some band-aids for you, don’t they? Spiderman ones! Or Hello Kitty!” he suggests, widening his eyes enthusiasthically.

“Cars,” the boy whispers and Sebastian picks him up in his arms. He looks at Teuvo over his shoulder and bounces the kid up and down, curling his biceps. Sebastian has always been lean but after the heavy gym work he’s been doing whole summer he’s considerably less lanky than he’s been in his teen years.

And boy, he knows it. He knows exactly how Teuvo looks at him as he strolls towards the house with the now-blabbering toddler on his flexed arms, a flat silver chain glistening on the sunkissed neck bared by the loose neckline of his soft tank top, a backwards cap shadowing his hair.

Teuvo is not going to be able to keep his fingers off that exact point for long, he can already feel it, how he will brush the chain gently to the side to let his fingertips play on the smooth skin over the collarbone before pressing his lips down on it.

  

~¤~

 

“I miss you touching me. I’m sorry I was such a dick about it,” Teuvo says in bed later, when the music of the second day of the festival has stopped ringing in their ears.

“Why were you?” Sebastian asks.

“I was scared I guess. What we are – it’s new to me. And I’ve never been with a guy like you before. Someone so brave. Open.”

“I think it sucks if you have to say I’m brave to want to hold your hand, but thanks.” Sebastian’s face closes into a pensive frown, like he’s thinking about something he wants to say.

“What kind of guys have you been with, then?” he asks, and adds, warily and seemingly reluctantly. “You don’t need to tell, of course. Forget I asked if you don’t want to. But – I mean, I gather from what you say that you  _have_  had boyfriends. I just never knew.”

Teuvo looks into the ceiling, sucking in his cheeks, biting his lips from the inside like he didn’t know how to answer.

“I wouldn’t call them boyfriends,” he says finally. “Like I said, I’ve have never had the kind of relationship I have with you. They’ve been – just guys. Like…  hook-ups. Or a friend I sometimes slept with. When it was convenient for both.” He turns a guarded gaze to Sebastian, like his past embarrasses him and he needs reassurance from his reaction.

Sebastian strokes his cheek. “I hope you liked it. That you had fun. I hate them a bit but I’d hate them more if they didn’t treat you right.”

“It was okay,” Teuvo shrugs it off with a shy smile.

Sebastian keeps looking tentatively at him, his lips pursed to a tight little pout.

“What?” Teuvo prompts.

“What what?”

“What are you thinking about?”

Sebastian wouldn’t want to say it but he can’t help. “Anyone I know?” he asks. His voice is steady and nonchalant but there’s a light tremble on the skin over his throat that Teuvo registers.

“Promise you won’t get weird with anybody if I tell?” Teuvo says.

Sebastian casts a gloomy look at him, sighs and rolls his eyes. “You can’t say shit like that and not tell because after it I would definitely get weird about  _you_. Or you and everyone. I promise I’ll be normal.”

He feels his cheeks burning a bit now and cringes inside. If he could take a few steps back he wouldn’t ask, it would probably be easier to live in a world where this conversation was never had.

Teuvo inhales deep, gives him a sidelong look. He blows the air out and takes another breath in. “Okay”, he starts. “I fucked Juuse Saros the night we won junior worlds in 2014. In the heat of the celebration. It was only that one time.”

Sebastian doesn’t say anything, he just nods. Teuvo feels a little sting of guilt, it’s like he’s sharing something private without his past partner’s consent; it’s something he doesn't usually do.

He remembers how the goalie had glowed in the morning, how pleasantly surprised Juuse had been to find another hockey player who was into boys, let alone on that level. They had been young, inexperienced, used to keeping their eyes strictly to themselves in the locker rooms in the fear of anyone guessing.

“And,” he starts, suddenly realizing how lost he is with words, how is he to describe what he’s had with Olli? Comfort fucks? Friends with benefits? A thin lifeline until something real comes along? The last one would be too harsh and not do justice to the mutual respect and understanding they’ve always had.

But, on the other hand, Olli was the first one he told about Sebastian. And he has lately let Olli know how wrongly he had judged him.

It’s only fair that Sebastian knows about their shared past.

“ _And?_ ” Sebastian asks, his voice gets an impatient, even anxious high pitch at the end of the prolonged syllable, and Teuvo has to hurry to continue.

“Olli Määttä. We’ve been seeing on and off since the rookie year. But it’s more like… he’s a good friend, and we like each other enough to help a nice guy get off, less risky than picking up a stranger.”

Sebastian agrees with an ambiguous humming sound because he needs time to process this. It’s obvious why Teuvo warned about getting weird about it because his guy’s, damn it,  _his_  guy’s, sexual history getting a form, names and faces, like this… it’s hard to avoid the thought of it getting weird.

Gosh, like, how’s he going to react to facing those two?

They’re good-looking guys for starters, objectively attractive to any western beauty standards. Blue eyes, nice faces.

A tall blonde with back to back Stanley cups. And shit, a goalie, like they’re not always a bit extra.

“Have you been… have you hooked up with them this year? I mean last year?” Sebastian asks in a smaller voice than he intended. He remembers Teuvo going out with Olli when Pens had a game in Raleigh but didn’t think twice of it back then.

Teuvo shakes his head quickly, vigorously. “No, no. I only met Olli once last season and we only had dinner. I got an impression that he has someone,” he says. A little smile emerges on his lips and he continues, “Maybe I had too. I just didn’t know it.”

Sebastian can’t help smiling back at him.

Teuvo goes on. “And with Juuse, like I said, it was a one-off thing. I don’t think I would even be his type anymore.”

“What do you mean?” Sebastian asks.

“You know, back at that tournament, I was the team captain, the top scorer. I think he has a thing for it – status, authority.”

“Oh,” Sebastian replies. Then a sudden realization lights up his face. “ _Oh,_ ” he says again, slower, and bursts out a giggle.

Teuvo rolls his eyes in acknowledgement. “Yeah. I know,” he says.

“And if you were his type?” Sebastian asks, but there’s no genuine worry in his voice anymore.

He shouldn’t have to ask, Teuvo thinks. Like anybody has made Teuvo feel like this before.

Their absence never ached in his bones when they were apart. It never punched the air out of his lungs when their eyes suddenly met in a crowded room, desire never burned like a hot fist tightening inside him, a hollow burn eating his chest and throat and groin like starvation, thirst and hunger at once.

He shrugs. “You know this is different. I was never really in love with either of them.”

And Sebastian has to roll over, straddle his sweet man on his hands and knees and bow down to kiss him hard, because a love confession is the greatest turn-on of all.

 

He pulls back from the kiss and looks intently down in Teuvo’s eyes.

“I just thought of something,” he says.

“What?” Teuvo asks, smiling.

“If I keep fucking you, will it eventually take me to the Stanley Cup finals?”

Teuvo chuckles.

“I don’t know but I think you should give it a try.”

A smile spreads on Sebastian’s face. “I will. Anything for the team.”

 

 

~¤~

 

~the end~

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is fuel, I appreciate your comments and kudos a great deal! Talk to me in comments or on tumblr, pob-lwc-caixa (main) or badhockeymom (hockey). 
> 
> The story continues with two more works; the next one gives a couple of extra fluffy scenes to the end of the last chapter of this one. The one after that peeks into the guys' next NHL season and gives a back story to Sebastian and Jesse's friendship.


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